


A History of Heaven and Its Angels, as Understood by the Archangel Gabriel

by Fantismal



Series: Missing an Angel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Angels, Did I mention angels?, Epic Length, Heaven, Historical, M/M, Multi, Other, filling in plotholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 64
Words: 159,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before humanity was born, the angels ruled in Heaven and on Earth. Gabriel lived when the world was young, when Heaven was heavenly, and Lucifer was still around. He remembers life crawling from the ocean, unicorns, the very first human vessel, the Fall of Lucifer, the rise of Hell, and his very own departure from the paradise of the angels. This is that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello Cariel

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.  
> There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown at the outset.
> 
> This story IS complete, but I'm posting it in pieces for my sanity. It is 59 chapters and 5 interludes long and has spoilers for characters and referenced events through season 8, possibly season 9 as it unfolds. We'll see.

### Hello Cariel

Gabriel sat alone on the peak of a mountain, all of his wings stretched out behind him, letting the wind twist around his feathers and tug gently at their spread. The whole world stretched out before him, massive, solid, alien. In Heaven, he was never alone. The songs of his brothers were always rippling through his head, an endless chatter of angelic voices. He could tune them out if he wanted, but even just the thought of cutting himself off from the choirs was ridiculous. He was stronger for his brothers’ presence in his mind.

Earth wasn’t like that at all. He could still hear his brothers, but their voices were muted, as if transmitting between the different planes actually could affect the metaphysical noise. They murmured in the back of Gabriel’s head, a comforting presence, but not one he paid any attention to.

There were no other voices on Earth. This planet was empty, a wide expanse of rock surrounded by water, shaped by fire and air. This planet spoke to the Archangels, the four celestial beings with elements at their cores. Michael was the world, steady earth, providing a base for all others to stand on. Sammael was the ocean, life-giving water, wrapping around Michael, through him, singing a message of praise and purpose to fuel their brothers. Gabriel was the core, burning fire, the heart of his brothers, energizing everyone’s actions. Raphael was the atmosphere, embracing winds, surrounding them all and holding them steady, together. God had made the Earth in their image, and they loved it.

Sammael’s oceans had held the first drops of life on this planet, tiny organisms trying to survive. Slowly, they had grown and multiplied; some even dared to creep out of the water. The Earth was changing. Plants grew on the land now, painting barren rock in greens of every hue. They hadn’t come this high yet, but Gabriel sat steady and watched time pass, watched the sun rise and fall, watched the green spread.

A rustle of wings heralded a new arrival to the mountain, one of Gabriel’s brothers. Cariel. One of the oldest of the Seraphim, Cariel was a member of Gabriel’s own choir, clever and bright. His songs were cheeky: respectful but very different. Gabriel had picked him out immediately upon his fledging, begging Michael to let him have the Seraph with the discordant tone. Michael had laughed and acquiesced, pushing the fledgling toward Gabriel with his approval. Gabriel had raised Cariel as he did all his Seraphim, teaching them the joys of flight, the thrill of song, and love, unending love, for their Father and all their brothers.

Cariel was fully grown now, taller than Gabriel (but not by much). He cut a striking figure before the Archangel, standing proud and erect, the sun shining on his face. After catching Gabriel’s eyes, Cariel bowed deeply, spreading his six wings in a display of respect and servitude. “Sir, I apologize for interrupting your contemplation.”

“Eh.” Gabriel flicked a dismissive hand and brightened his grace at his Seraph. For all their years, the younger angels were still so new, and their instinctive need to venerate the glory of an Archangel was difficult to overcome, even among his own choir. It was only funny the first few hundred times to pass a crowd of young Seraphim and have them all flinging themselves to their faces. Gabriel was bored with the whole reverence thing already. “You didn’t interrupt anything important. Stand up. I hate talking to the back of your head.”

Cariel straightened slowly, tucking his wings in neatly and risking a little peaceful glow in the face of Gabriel’s good mood. Gabriel laughed and patted the rocks beside him. “What brings an angel like you out of my stuffy tower?”

“I came with your work.”

The warm peace bled out of Gabriel’s grace at those words. “You’re _kidding_ me.” When Cariel shook his head, Gabriel groaned. “Dammit! I came to Earth to get away from all that crap!”

Ever since God had started the creation of Seraphim, the four Archangels had found themselves tasked with thousands of responsibilities. Instead of spending their days together in song or flight, they were now each in charge of a growing choir of their younger brothers—thirty Seraphim each, with the promise of more ranks of angels to follow. Each Archangel was given a glittering tower in their quadrant of Heaven (Gabriel’s was shaped like a spiraling pillar of fire, in the West), from where they were meant to administer their realm (Gabriel was in charge of Earth and the other physical realms). While Michael, Sammael, and Raphael spent most of their time holed up in their towers, Gabriel had told his grown Seraphim to take care of the paperwork while he handled his realm in person. He called this “delegation.” Raphael called it “lazy avoidance tactics.” Semantics.

“I suppose you were the unlucky one sent to shepherd me home?” Gabriel drew his wings in tight and folded his arms. He loved Heaven, he did, but being cooped up in his tower, reading page after page of pointless reports, was not his idea of Paradise.

“I volunteered, actually, sir,” Cariel answered smoothly. “I’ve taken the liberty to compile all the work you’ve left undone, distributed those tasks that can be handled with you to the appropriate Seraphim, and summarized the rest of the reports into this.” He pulled a slim sheaf of pages from his spirit and held it out to Gabriel. “All you need to do, sir, is review this information and sign where appropriate. I can handle the rest.”

“Oh?” Gabriel relaxed his pose, uncrossing his arms to take the sheaf from Cariel. He had been on Earth for the better part of an Earth century now, and had been dreading the state of his desk. If this was all he had to do… “ _You_ consolidated this for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Cariel answered. “I thought it would be more successful to not smother you in unnecessary minutiae.”

Gabriel laughed and curled a wing around his younger brother. “Sounds like you’re angling for a promotion!”

Cariel’s wings flickered anxiously. “Well, sir, all of the other Archangels have named a Seraph as their lieutenant, their second-in-command, their right-hand angel, as it were…” He tilted his head to the side, peering over at Gabriel and trying to read his grace.

“Have they, now? That’s smart of them…” Gabriel flipped through the sheaf and stroked a wing against Cariel’s. “Let me look this over. If you’ve done as good of a job as it sounds like, then I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have as my second.”

Cariel’s grace filled with a pleased sort of pride, toeing the line of smugness, and Gabriel laughed again. “When was the last time you’ve been to Earth, Cariel?”

The angel gave a little shiver as Gabriel spoke his name. Angels’ names had power, and could be spoken as anything from a loving embrace to a furious blow. Gabriel knew from experience that when a being of greater power spoke your name, you were helpless to not react. Cariel would feel simple joy at being acknowledged by his superior, a happy warmth no matter his own emotions.

“Not for decades, sir,” the younger angel answered.

“Well then!” Gabriel flung an arm out over the landscape below them. “Spread your wings and fly! You’ve spend way too long cooped up in my tower!”

Cariel gave Gabriel another sideways glance, as if confirming this was no test or trick, before he leapt off the rock and obediently launched himself off the mountain. Gabriel whooped along with him as Cariel’s wings caught the wind and he soared. Heaven was lovely to fly in, all wide open spaces aside from the occasional tower, but Earth was _fun_ , with winds and updrafts and obstacles. The only thing better than the warmth of the sun on your open wings was the direct presence of the love of God, Lord of All.

_Or perhaps the glory of another Archangel,_ Gabriel thought, looking behind him as he felt another’s grace approaching.

Michael landed pressed against Gabriel’s back, arms and wings wrapping around the smaller angel. Gabriel thrilled in his brother’s embrace, clasping Michael between his own wings. Love, pure and golden, flowed between them at every point of contact.

Angelic hugs were not meant to be intimate. Their grace was an expansive cloud of power around and within their bodies, their _spirit_ , but even those were largely incorporeal. They could not pass through each other’s spirits and certain enemies were capable of causing them physical harm, but they could pass through non-magical obstacles without restraint or could harden their grace around them to create a solid form. They did not have nerves to register contact, so texture or contact location meant nothing to an angel. A full-spirit press was no more exciting to an angel than a brush of arms.

All angels were interconnected, their minds constantly linked together. They were not quite a collective hive mind, but they reveled in the closeness of their brothers. An angelic embrace wasn’t about the contact of spirits so much as the contact of grace. Being so close to another angel pressed their essences together, to mix their grace and offer complete love and support, reinforcing the bond between the brothers. Gabriel made a point to encourage contact with and between his Seraphim for that very reason, and with Michael and Sammael. “You have been missed in Heaven, Little One.”

Michael’s voice was deep and solid, the grinding of tectonic plates, the rumble of an earthquake, the vastness of a cavern. He was stone and life, the angel of earth, of the north. He was so much more than Gabriel: older, wiser, and far more patient. Only Michael was allowed to call Gabriel “Little One,” his own pet name for the smallest of his Archangel brothers.

“Who missed me?” Gabriel asked cheekily, pressing back in Michael’s arms. “Did Raphael miss me? I bet he didn’t. I bet he was glad I was gone. I bet-”

Michael chuckled, flowing around Gabriel to sit beside him as Cariel had. “ _Everyone_ has missed you,” he said. After a moment, he amended, “Except, perhaps, Raphael.”

Gabriel snapped his wings against the air as he laughed. “I knew it!” It wasn’t really all that surprising. Raphael, his twin, his literal other half, his angelic _partner_ , loathed Gabriel as much as Gabriel loathed him. An angel’s one true partner was meant to complete him, to balance him, to bring him unmatched peace and love and joy, to be placed above all his other brothers. Raphael and Gabriel’s mutual animosity was no secret in Heaven. If anything, it had become the subject of many jokes. Gabriel himself encouraged the laughter. Amusement at their predicament was better than pity for being the only angels in Heaven without the serenity that came with a beloved partner.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael sighed, drawing Gabriel close again. “You’re too far away, here on Earth.”

“You could come to visit more often.” Gabriel reclined against his brother’s chest, tugging Michael’s arms around him. Michel had a gift of focusing solely on Gabriel in a way that always made him feel thoroughly protected and adored. While Gabriel knew Michael had that effect on most angels, somehow, it always seemed most special when it was directed at Gabriel himself.

“Unlike you, _I_ attend to my work,” Michael chided, though his grace rippled teasingly against Gabriel’s.

“Cariel attends to my work,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the Seraph skimming over distant clouds. “I’m thinking of making him my second.”

“Oh really now? It’s about time! The rest of us already find our seconds indispensable. My own has been watching over Heaven while I take the time to come visit you.”

“He is?” Gabriel tipped his head back to look at Michael. “Who did you choose for that responsibility?”

“Filiel.”

Gabriel tried to match the name to one of his brothers, but it was difficult. There were dozens of them now, and while Gabriel knew every angel in his own choir, his brothers’ were less familiar. Michael chuckled at the puzzled glow to Gabriel’s grace.

“Filiel is a fierce warrior, utterly devoted to our family.”

Though that could describe any angel, Michael touched Gabriel’s grace with his own to help the younger Archangel focus on a specific brother. Filiel. Gabriel now recalled a large Seraph with broad, sweeping wings who wielded two swords at once. Filiel had awakened in Cariel’s clutch, Gabriel now remembered, the very first Seraph. Of course he had been made for Michael’s right hand, the first Seraph following the first angel.

“Filiel’s a good choice for you,” Gabriel approved. “Who did the others pick?”

“Raphael named Marmoniel as his second. Marmoniel’s nurturing should balance Raphael’s directness nicely, while Sammael chose Azazel,” Michael named a sharp angel whose grace always shone with a golden light, “though he was tempted to name Alastair instead. But Alastair spends most of his time in my tower, helping Naomi write a code of conduct, and Sammael didn’t want his second divided between choirs.”

Gabriel knew Naomi, a word-loving Seraph who was actually Cariel’s partner. He huffed a laugh at her current endeavors. “A code of conduct? What do we need a code of conduct for? We’re _angels_. Our manners and behaviors were written into our spirits by God himself. We’re awakened knowing how to behave!”

“Are we?” Michael tilted his head to the side. “You’re a fine example of good behavior, avoiding your duties, skipping out of Heaven, playing pranks on Raphael…” He tweaked one of Gabriel’s wings playfully. “Naomi thought it was a good idea to have concrete directions written out as a guide. I couldn’t fault her reasoning and gave her permission to attempt it.”

“Are extended stays on Earth going to be forbidden?” Gabriel asked, already glumly picturing a drab future where all his brothers acted exactly the same. How could anything change like that?

“Of course not,” Michael assured Gabriel, hugging him tighter for a moment. “And absolutely not for you and your choir. The code of conduct would be more for the younger angels, anyway. Father started creating again.”

Gabriel looked up at Michael with curiosity brimming in his grace, and the older angel nodded. “He’s making Angels next, just regular angels, from which we are to appoint Dominions to command garrisons.”

“Where are they going to fall in the hierarchy?”

“Below the Seraphim,” Michael explained. “I believe Seraphim are expected to command anywhere from six to sixty Dominion each, and each Dominion will have at least a hundred Angels in their garrison. Or perhaps another type of angel Father hasn’t created yet.”

“But that’s…” Gabriel did some quick math, his wings twitching. “We’re looking at _thousands_ of new brothers!”

“Father wants over a million angels before he begins his ‘greatest creation.’”

“He told you this?” Gabriel asked doubtfully, straightening up a little in Michael’s arms. Over a million? It was bad enough trying to keep on top of thirty Seraphim! Gabriel couldn’t even imagine what a choir of a quarter of a million angels would be like.

Michael nodded. “He actually did, last time Sammael and I met with him. He gave us no further details about this ‘greatest creation,’ though.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Gabriel sighed. It was already a familiar refrain in Heaven, meant to reassure angels who had unanswerable questions, but it chafed Gabriel whenever he heard it. Father should explain, not obfuscate.

“He wants to speak with you.”

Gabriel felt his grace freeze at Michael’s calm words, twisting sharply to stare at his brother. “You mean with us?”

“No.” Michael shook his head and reached out to smooth his hand over Gabriel’s spirit. “With _you_. Alone.”

Gabriel couldn’t even twitch a wing, so caught up was he in sudden fear. Their Father, their all-powerful, all-knowing Lord, wanted an audience with just him? He had been in his Father’s presence a handful of times before, but always with the other three Archangels at his side. Michael and Sammael did most of the talking in those instances. Father _never_ summoned just one angel, not since Sammael awakened, at least. Even Michael wasn’t called alone. Only Sammael ever dared to spend time alone in their Father’s presence, watching over His shoulder as He created. Just as the younger angels couldn’t help but venerate the Archangels, so too could the Archangels not help but fear their Father’s wrath. “Am I in trouble?” he asked, his voice barely squeaking out.

“Oh Gabriel, you’re not in any trouble!” Michael wrapped wings and arms around Gabriel, pulling him close again. Gabriel felt Michael’s use of his name thrum down his back, releasing the tension in his wings and letting him move again, flinging himself against Michael’s chest as if his brother’s solid presence could shelter him from their Father. “Father specifically said ‘at your convenience,’ or I would have mentioned it first. He’s in no rush, so I can only assume it is good news, or perhaps He wants a report on your realms, since you haven’t been in Heaven lately.”

“I don’t have a report on my realms!” Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s going to be so mad!”

“He won’t be.” Michael reached for Gabriel’s face, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “Little One, you forget: Father knows everything. He knows you’ve been here, watching the Earth grow in person. He knows your Seraphim have been running your tower. He _knows_ , and He is not wrathful. He is probably overjoyed to know that one of His children loves the Earth as much as He does.”

“You really think so?”

“I am as certain as I can be, when it comes to Father.” Michael brushed his fingers along the curve of Gabriel’s face. “No harm will come to you.”

“I should go now, then. I shouldn’t keep Him waiting.”

“Not quite yet,” Michael said, touching the sheaf of pages Cariel had prepared for Gabriel. “Maybe you should read this first, just in case Father does have questions for you.”

“Right. But won’t He-?”

“At your convenience.” Michael brushed his grace over Gabriel one more time before releasing his embrace. “Father’s patience is endless. When you are ready, go to Him. And when you are finished, come visit us. Sammael misses you something fierce. He rants about how boring Heaven is without your fiery spirit.”

“He does not!”

“I think I’d know my own partner,” Michael pointed out. “Sammael misses you, as I’m sure your Seraphim do. Make sure to drop in, so we can all go flying again.” He stood up, shaking out his wings and beaming at Gabriel. “I shall see you soon?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, nodding energetically. “Yes, soon. Tell Sammael I miss him too?”

“I will.” Michael touched his hand over the core of his spirit, just below his throat, before gesturing to Gabriel, an angelic salute. He spread his wings and leapt into the sky, instantly gone as he jumped planes back to Heaven.

Gabriel sank back onto the rock with wide eyes. _Father wanted to see him._ He was absolutely not ready for this…


	2. Enter the Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel must go before God and is given a new task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.  
> There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown at the outset.
> 
> I'm posting two chapters at once because these two are so short. I feel bad giving only one of them at a time!

### Enter the Messenger

The Axis Mundi ran through Heaven, simultaneously a straight road and a complicated knot, connecting every section of the celestial realm to the center: the Garden. Gabriel leapt from Earth, through the Borderlands ringing the different planes, to his tower before winging his way along the road toward the center. It was impossible to get lost on the Axis Mundi. All paths led to the middle.

The Garden varied appearance based on necessity. Most of the time, it _was_ a garden, a place of peace and tranquility. Sometimes it was a massive throne room, made from gleaming stone with polished thrones for God and His Archangels. Once, Gabriel visited the Garden and found it as a weird jungle of metal and lights, with screaming noises that could only nominally be called music, huge serpents roaring above on metal tracks. God had been present that time, and Gabriel had fled before his Father approached.

God’s presence infused the Garden, but their Father Himself was rarely actually _present_. All angels visited to feel His love up close, but only the four Archangels actually experienced His direct voice. Gabriel had never felt his Father without the filter of Michael and Sammael’s wings in front of him. All his grace was vibrating around his spirit as he landed in front of the Garden’s gate. Through the delicately wrought iron, Gabriel could see a world of life and light. The Garden was a garden today. Gabriel pulled his wings up, tucking them neatly behind his back, and pushed the gates open. Today, he would meet his Father alone. He prayed he did not embarrass himself, and then prayed an apology for the prayer, since all prayers were heard by God.

Laughter echoed through the Garden, making Gabriel’s wings shiver. The Archangel fought the compulsion to fling himself to his face, prostrate before his Father. He was no fledgling, no Seraph to collapse in the face of a greater power! He was an Archangel, and he had more composure than that!

_My son, Gabriel._

God’s voice filled Gabriel’s spirit, making him swell with overwhelming warmth and pleasure. His name, spoken by his Father, was like a loving embrace, wrapping around him and pushing out all his fears. Gabriel closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to mimic that feeling. “Father… Michael said you wanted to speak with me?”

_Come into the middle, Gabriel._

Gabriel couldn’t resist the gentle order, flitting toward the center of the Garden. There! Towering above the trees was a column of blue flame, of bright shadow, of energy and life and goodness. “Father!” Gabriel’s knees bent automatically, his wings spreading in a deeply reverent bow. Five hundred and eighty of his wings stretched out to the side, spanning over a thousand feet, while his last two wings lifted to cover his head, shielding himself from the brilliance of his Father.

_You were scared to come before Me._

Father knew everything. No secrets were hidden from Him, especially not in His direct presence. There was no point lying to Him, not even in an attempt to preserve Gabriel’s own face. “I have never been alone with You, Father. I was afraid I had disappointed You.”

_Have you done anything worthy of disappointment?_

Father did love to test his children, to see how they grew, and this was clearly a test. Gabriel hadn’t broken any laws of Heaven, so any answer he gave would be purely subjective. The Archangel ducked his head under his wings. “I have been remiss in my duties here. I let my brothers handle my responsibilities, while I stayed on Earth.” If his Father was disappointed in him for any reason, surely it would be that one. Gabriel closed his eyes and waited for his Father’s judgment.

_You have been tasked with watching over My Earth, and you have attended to your duties admirably. Delegation is not a sin, and your Seraphim have reveled and matured in the trust you have placed in them. They love you, as you love Me._

_I am not disappointed._

A silvery wash of relief flooded through Gabriel, and his wings lifted slightly in pleasure. “Thank you, Father. Your approval means everything.”

 _Not everything,_ and was that a chuckle Gabriel heard? The Archangel almost risked glancing up at his Father. _You also value the approval of your brothers, Michael and Sammael. You have not visited them lately. Sammael has been requesting I summon you back here, for he misses you._

Sammael had been asking things of their Father? Gabriel’s eyes shot open in surprise. How did he even have the _nerve_!? It had taken all of Gabriel’s own willpower to stand before Him, much less to _ask_ for something for himself!

God definitely chuckled now, and Gabriel could feel his Father’s warm love settling over his outstretched wings in a loving caress. _I cannot clip your wings any more than I can stop fire from burning, My little angel. However, I **can** offer you new responsibilities._

If God wanted, He absolutely could stop fire from burning. It would be something unnatural and unsettling, but it would be possible. Confining Gabriel to one plane would be much the same—possible, but against the natural order of things. Gabriel was made to _move_. He could feel his calling in his grace as surely as he could feel the flames that made up the core of his spirit.

His Father was silent, apparently waiting for Gabriel to acknowledge His statement. Gabriel raised his head a little, though he kept it covered by his wings. “New responsibilities, Father?”

_I could use a Messenger. An angel I can trust to fly between all the planes, to deliver My Word, or any other message to or from Heaven. An angel who could go from My presence to the lowest of his brothers’ without any loss of respect for the one he addressed._

“Michael can be trusted,” Gabriel began weakly, soon overwhelmed by his Father’s joyful laughter.

_Gabriel, I would have **you** be My Messenger._

His name again. Gabriel thrilled at the sound of his Father’s voice shaping his name, filling him with love and pride and trust. His wings unconsciously stretched toward his Father, and he could feel his Father wrapping him in His grace. Gabriel couldn’t even consider refusal when he felt so connected to his Father. “I—yes. Yes, I would love to be Your Messenger!”

 _Let it be done._ Gabriel felt his Father’s heavy hand pressing through his wings, resting against the back of his head, _searing_ him with His power. _Gabriel, My Archangel, you are now Messenger of Heaven, Herald of the Heavenly Host, Carrier of My Word. When I have need for you, I will call your name._

“And I will answer,” Gabriel whispered, squeezing his eyes shut again. Hesitantly, he reached up, his hand brushing against his Father’s, dwarfed by God’s size. “Thank you, Father. I will not let You down.”

For a moment, Gabriel felt his hand sandwiched between his Father’s, but as quick as it was there, the pressure was gone. His Father was gone too, having left the Garden to attend to whatever new distraction had come His way. Father wasn’t much for good-byes.

Gabriel remained kneeling in the Garden, his grace humming, as charged up as it could possibly be from his Father’s presence. Eventually, he pushed himself to his feet and shook out his wings.

His _wings_! The feathers, once a glorious white that could shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow, were now edged in gold. Gabriel pulled his wings forward, staring at the new decoration. Every individual feather had a distinct golden trim, no matter what angle he held them at. No other angel had two-toned feathers like this, not even Sammael! His Father had marked him, written his new titles on his wings for all to see. Messenger of Heaven. Herald of the Heavenly Host. Carrier of the Word.

“I am _so_ out of my depth.”


	3. Meet the New Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While in Heaven, Gabriel visits with his brother, Sammael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.  
> There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown at the outset.
> 
> I posted two chapters at once because they're both so short, I felt guilty doing only one at a time. Enjoy!

### Meet the New Messenger

Sammael’s tower was a spike of ice to the south, streaking up in a glittering push of whites and blues. The walls were translucent and shone in the light of Heaven, pitted here and there with entrances to the gleaming rooms within. Gabriel knew Sammael’s personal rooms were at the very peak of the tower, so he headed for the uppermost entrance, his new gold-edged wings slicing easily through the air.

Once inside the tower, a handful of Seraphim dropped to one knee before him, spreading their own wings. Gabriel’s grace flared in amusement—Sammael was managing to break them of falling fully prone! He’d need to ask his brother how he had managed that. Giving his kneeling brothers a nod, Gabriel strode past them. There wasn’t much point asking them to stand, as he had learned from long experience. That only trapped him in an endless debate over whether or not it was proper.

It _wasn’t_ proper to just barge into Sammael’s personal office, but then again, Gabriel had never cared much for propriety. He did warn Sammael with a sharp knock on the cool door before waving it open and stepping inside.

“Gabriel!” The new Messenger was greeted immediately by an excited cry from his brother, and Sammael vaulted over his desk to wrap the younger Archangel in a hug with arms and wings and voice. “You’re here!”

“You doubted me, Light Bringer?” Michael was leaning against the wall behind Sammael’s desk, his arms folded loosely, wings relaxed. “Gabriel.” He greeted his brother with a nod and flare of peace through his grace.

“Sammael, Michael.” Gabriel flared his grace back at both brothers, and then spread his wings as he hugged Sammael back. “I heard you missed me?”

“Oh, of course not!” Sammael ruffled Gabriel’s wings affectionately, and then stepped back with a puzzled ripple of his grace, his head cocking to the side as he studied the younger Archangel. “Gabriel… did Earth bleach your wings!?”

Gabriel laughed and spun around, showing off his new look. “Father did it! He’s asked me to be His Messenger, _the_ Messenger, for all of Heaven!”

“He’s trusting you with His Word?” Michael grace was impressed as he drew away from the wall, approaching Gabriel and examining one of his wings. “Congratulations, Little One. I knew He was not summoning you for a punishment!”

“Or maybe He is,” Sammael teased, giving Gabriel’s wings another ruffle. “Trusting this little runt with carrying His Word?”

“I’m not _that_ small,” Gabriel protested, batting Sammael’s hands away, to his brother’s amusement. He was the smallest _Archangel_ , yes, barely more than half the height of Michael or Sammael, but the Seraphim were still smaller than him.

Most of them.

“Gabriel’s size has always been perfect for his duties,” Michael admitted, inclining his head. “And his Seraphim are easily the most loyal already, perhaps _because_ of his size.”

“Despite his physical absence!” Sammael’s arm slipped easily around Gabriel’s shoulders, drawing him over to the edge of the room so they could sit and look out over Heaven. Michael joined them, the three brothers curling together, their wings entwined. “You must tell me how you managed that, Gabriel. I keep losing my own Seraphim to Michael, and I’m here all the time!”

“I can’t help that my Seraphim are more charismatic!” Michael laughed. “You should have made wiser choices!”

All four Archangels had been present at the Seraphim’s fledgings. They had gathered around each clutch of fledglings, twelve baby angels, and watched as their Father had awakened each with his own name.

_You, celestial being, have been created to be an angel of the Lord. I name you Filiel._  
 _I name you Azazel._  
 _I name you Raguel._  
 _I name you Remiel._  
 _I name you Marmoniel._  
 _I name you Cariel…_

Each fledgling had opened his eyes and spread his wings for the first time when he heard his name, turning his face up to his four oldest brothers. Some had waited patiently for orders, some had tested their movements, and some had looked around and started singing. Cariel had been one of the latter. Gabriel was supposed to have let Michael have the first pick of the Seraphim for his choir, but the moment Cariel started to sing his utterly unusual song, Gabriel had known he needed this brother for his own. He hadn’t wanted to risk Sammael choosing him—Sammael liked things that were different and new almost as much as Gabriel did—so he had broken ranks and begged Michael for the first pick.

In the end, every Seraphim had sung a unique version of the Heavenly chorus, and all the Archangels were pleased with their choices, but Gabriel still believed Cariel’s voice rose above all the rest.

“Look over there,” Sammael was saying, tugging on one of Gabriel’s minor wings to catch his attention before pointing off to the northeast. “See the glow?” A faint reddish shimmer hung low on the horizon, pulsating gently.

“Oh!” Gabriel leaned forward, trying to see over the distance. “A new clutch?”

“There are fourteen new clutches now.” Michael indicated some other smudges of color. “The red one is closest to fledging. We suspect it will happen before the end of the year.”

“Already, this new rank of angel outnumbers the rest of us,” Sammael grumbled good-naturedly. “Raphael’s been poking around the clutches. He suspects the new ones only have one set of wings.”

“Only one?” Gabriel’s own wings rustled distastefully. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be a Seraph, with only six wings to carry him. If he lost five hundred and eighty of his wings, he would be absolutely crippled in the air. His major wingset alone _could_ carry him if all others broke, but his flight would be slow and awkward.

“It is absolutely bizarre,” Sammael agreed. “But then again, we thought the same of you when we saw how few wings _you_ had!” He gave a tug on Gabriel’s feathers and then nuzzled in close to his little brother. “We love you anyway, freakish deformities and all.”

“You’re all deformed in my eyes,” Michael declared, though he softened his words by wrapping both brothers in his warm feathers. With exactly one thousand wings, Michael had hundreds more than any other angel, even Sammael, who had over two hundred more than Gabriel.

Gabriel hummed contentedly as he rested against his brothers. _This_ , now, this was Paradise.


	4. Castiel and the Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight’s the night animal life climbs onto dry land, but first, Gabriel must console a fledgling angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is an angel far below Gabriel's station, so the two don't have much cause for interaction. Despite this, their lives DO cross, and this is the first time they actually meet. Gabriel has a huge soft spot for the underdog, and Castiel is very much an underdog.

### Castiel and the Fish

Gabriel swooped and soared over the great black ocean below. The sun was on the far side of Earth right now, and the world was lit only by reflected moonlight and the occasional streak of another angel’s grace. His own burnt the sky like a brilliant comet, and Gabriel laughed as he trimmed his wings and rolled over and over through the night sky. Nothing beat the freedom of flying on Earth. Raphael looked at him funny if he did barrel rolls through Heaven, and it wasn’t fitting for the Messenger of Heaven to howl his joy like a fledgling.

Gabriel _loved_ being the Messenger. While he had fretted at first that Sammael could have been correct and the job far too much for him to handle, his Father had the utmost faith in him. Gabriel had not disappointed Him yet. Every so often, he’d hear his Father calling for him in his head, and he’d wing back to the Garden as quickly as he could. More and more often these days, it presented itself as the Throne Room, and Gabriel bowed before his Father as he received the revelations to spread throughout the Host. Gabriel no longer quaked in fear when he stood before God. He knew that God was capable of world-shattering wrath, but his Father was always warm and jovial with him. Often, they would talk about things of no real consequence before getting to the messages Gabriel was tasked to deliver. Gabriel loved these times best of all, when he could marvel at his Father’s creations and listen to the Creator Himself explain His thoughts.

Like tonight. Tonight was going to be an important night. His Father had said so, when Gabriel spoke about the animals swimming in the oceans. Tonight, the first animal would move to the dry earth. Gabriel wanted to watch this happening for himself. God had hinted several times that His greatest creation would be one such animal, making a home on land.

With no messages to deliver, Gabriel was free to spend his time stretching his wings and singing out to the stars. He folded his wings in and dove, streaking over the ocean and pulling up just before he crashed into the sand. Laughing, Gabriel shook out his wings and spun in a circle.

“Who’s there?”

The voice surprised him, a tremulous little thing. Gabriel cocked his head to the side, stretching out his grace. Aha, there! Just over a little hill of sand, a fledgling angel crouched, his own grace barely bright enough to illuminate the ground beneath him. The fledgling shrank back as Gabriel stepped closer, his eyes wide in fear.

Gabriel reached out and stroked the fledgling’s shaking wings, stilling the feathers. “Hello there, little one. I don’t believe you’re one of mine.”

The fledgling shook his head, unconsciously pressing into the caress. “I serve Ezekiel, who serves Remiel, in the choir of Raphael.”

“And I serve God, Lord of All.” Gabriel sat on the beach and patted the sand beside him. The little fledgling crept forward and hummed when Gabriel caught him and tucked him against his side. “I am Gabriel, and I will forgive you for being one of Raphael’s angels.”

The fledgling shook, hiding his face behind wings and hands. “I’m sorry!” he cried, trying to bow and hide at the same time.

Gabriel caught the fledgling’s hands and drew them away from his face, very deliberately projecting serenity toward the child. “Peace, little one! I may fight with my twin, but that doesn’t mean I’ll take it out on you! What’s your name?”

“Castiel.” The fledgling was eventually coaxed into cuddling against Gabriel’s side again, one tiny hand curled around a gold-edged feather. “I have been awake for six years.”

“Six years already?” Gabriel stroked Castiel’s wings, recognizing that name from a story Cariel had told him. “I have been awake for _thousands_ of years. But I do know you.”

Castiel’s wings drooped, his bright gaze dropping to the sand. “From my fledging? _Everyone_ knows about that.”

As God created more and more Angels, it quickly became impossible for the Archangels to attend every fledging personally, even though they needed to select their choir members from the new fledglings. They started sending their Seraphim in their stead. Gabriel sent Cariel whenever possible, as he trusted his second above any other Seraphim in his choir to know the sort of angels he wanted to collect. His other top Seraphim, Zachariah and Barachiel, were decent enough at picking out new angels, but Cariel was the best. Gabriel had also been entrusted with the reading of the names, as God no longer personally awoke each angel. There were just far too many. When Gabriel couldn’t attend a fledging, his Seraph representative read the names for him.

When it was time for Castiel’s clutch to fledge, Cariel had been sent as Gabriel’s representative. He had related the event to Gabriel amid his own laughter.

_It started same as any other fledging. We took our positions in the four directions around the clutch, and I started to read. ‘You, celestial being, have been created to be an angel of the Lord. I name you Iofiel. I name you Morael. I name you Balthazar,’ and so on. And then—I name you Castiel. Eighth angel of the clutch to Awaken._

_Like every angel before him, Castiel opened his eyes and spread his wings… and **wham**! Hits Morael upside the head, who falls forward onto Peniel, who grabs Dabriel… only Balthazar had the sense to jump aside! Six fledgling Angels were sprawled out in a mess of wings and arms, and Castiel just stood there, pointing as if to say ‘did I do that?’_

“It could’ve happened to anyone,” Gabriel pointed out, fighting down a smile at the memory. Cariel had confessed that he very nearly claimed Castiel for Gabriel’s choir right then, but he knew Raphael’s Seraph would have reported it back immediately and Gabriel would never have been able to live it down. He chose Balthazar, Castiel’s partner, instead, and foisted Castiel off on Raphael.

“But it didn’t. It happened to _me_.”

Castiel looked so dejected at the memory of his disastrous awakening that Gabriel shifted and pulled the fledgling into his lap. He wrapped Castiel in his softest wings, hugging the young angel close. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he soothed, running his hand over Castiel’s little head. “Nothing happens without reason. He must have _meant_ you to knock your brothers down. Why do you think He’d want that?”

Castiel flexed his wings but didn’t answer. Gabriel suspected that was because the little Angel couldn’t actually vocalize _Because Dad’s a dick._ It had taken Gabriel many years before he could let himself think that of his Father without panicking. Speaking it out loud was still a trial, and he only ever said it to Sammael, who would laugh and agree. They loved their Father with all their hearts, but neither Gabriel nor Sammael were so blind as to overlook His distance and constant testing.

But God’s dickish ways tended to have a deeper meaning, when they actually stopped and thought about it. There was usually a lesson to be learned, if only they looked. Gabriel couldn’t see Raphael taking the time to teach this to his miserable fledgling.

Gabriel hummed softly as he waited for Castiel to speak again, rocking gently to the rhythm of the waves. Eventually, Castiel’s wings sagged again and he shrugged thin shoulders. “I don’t know. Everyone _laughed_.”

“No one _laughed_ ,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. Cariel had assured Gabriel that at the time, none of the Seraphim had made any sound, though they had all stared at each other in shock and barely-veiled amusement. He himself had cleared his throat and kept reading the names as if nothing unusual had happened. The laughter came later.

“Everyone laughs now.”

“Because now it is a story, woven into the song of Heaven. _You_ are woven into the song of Heaven.” Gabriel carded his fingers through Castiel’s limp wings, smoothing out his feathers and brushing them straight. “When I was a fledgling about your age, Sammael was trying to teach me how to fly on my own.”

“You couldn’t fly?” Castiel interrupted. While angels weren’t awakened with the ability to fly, they all tended to pick it up by the time they reached Castiel’s age. Some learned quicker than others, but it didn’t take too long before fledglings stopped crashing into each other and the more senior angels.

Gabriel chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, I could fly, but I never flew on my own. I always held on to Michael or Sammael’s hands. Raphael liked to show off how he could fly, but I was scared to let go.”

“But you’re an _Archangel_. You’re not scared of _anything_!”

“Archangels can be scared, just like fledgling angels. _Especially_ fledgling Archangels!” Gabriel tweaked the tip of Castiel’s wing before smoothing the feathers again. “And when I was learning to fly, there was no ground. There was just darkness, and you could fall and fall and fall forever.”

“I’d be scared of that too,” Castiel admitted, snuggling in close. “I don’t like falling.”

“I don’t think any angel likes to fall.” Gabriel tucked Castiel’s wings in and wrapped both arms around the young angel. “Sammael told me there was nothing to be scared of. He’d start flying with me, but he’d hold his arm out as far as it could and make me fly as far away from him as I could. He’d still hold my hand, though, so I’d do it. But then one time, _he let go_.” Castiel gave a little gasp, pressing in close, and Gabriel almost laughed. Instead, he just nuzzled the Angel’s head.

“He let go, and then I was flying on my own. And I _screamed_! Michael thought something was attacking me and flew over as fast as he could. Do you know what I did?”

Castiel shook his head, lifting his face to look at Gabriel. The Archangel tapped Castiel between the eyes. “I crashed into Michael! I grabbed one of his wings and caught his feathers, and I tore these two big handfuls of feathers right out of his primary wing!”

“You didn’t!”

“I did!” Gabriel _was_ laughing now, but laughing at himself, at the memory. Michael, with his sword out, twisting so he didn’t skewer his out-of-control brother. Sammael, realizing the danger too late and darting in to catch Gabriel, and Gabriel himself, going too fast to stop in time. “Michael had this big bald patch until his feathers grew back, and I was so embarrassed that I kept hiding behind Sammael whenever Michael was close. But do you know what?”

“What?”

“I learned that there were worse things than falling forever, and I wasn’t scared of flying on my own anymore. Next I was scared of not being able to stop!”

Castiel giggled, clapping his hands together at the story. “But you’re the best flyer now! Better than anyone!”

“Don’t let Raphael hear you say that,” Gabriel warned. “He’s still faster than I am. But you are right. I’m a great flyer now, but only because I had to get over that fear I used to have. I _needed_ to mess up so I could get better.”

“So you think I had to mess up too?” There was so much hope in Castiel’s immature grace, it was making him glow almost as bright as one of Gabriel’s wings.

Gabriel nodded at the fledgling. “I think you did. I hear you’re a great flyer yourself.”

“I was the first in my clutch to fly!” Castiel said proudly, pointing at himself, his wings fluffing up. “Remiel says he thinks I’m the youngest ever angel to start flying!”

“Exactly!” Gabriel stroked his hand up the arch of Castiel’s wing. “You knew that you needed to learn how to use these right away, so you wouldn’t knock your brothers down again! _Because_ you hit Morael, you started flying first. Because of your fledging, _you_ are the best Angel flyer.” Gabriel poked Castiel lightly in the chest, making the fledgling giggle. “So you see? Father meant you to knock them over so you would learn to fly best. I bet by the time you’re grown, you’ll fly faster than Raphael and better than me!”

“Oh no!” Castiel shook his head and covered his face with his hands again, though he did peek out at Gabriel between his fingers. “I can’t be better than you! You’re Archangels!”

“Are you doubting me?” Gabriel teased, cocking his head to the side. As he suspected, Castiel immediately began waving his hands.

“No, oh no, I’m not doubting you at all!”

“Good!” Gabriel nudged Castiel out of his lap and stood up, pulling the fledgling up as well. “Come on, fly for me. Show me what you can do!”

Castiel glanced back at Gabriel nervously, but when Gabriel gestured out over the ocean, Castiel snapped his wings out and took a running start. He soon leapt up, his wings beating heavily to keep him airborne.

The fledgling’s technique was rough, Gabriel decided as he watched, but had great potential. As his wings developed in size and strength, he wouldn’t have to work so hard. They were a good shape for both speed and agility—Castiel might never be as fast as Raphael with his sleek wings, or as maneuverable as Gabriel with his wide ones, but he’d likely end up comparably faster than Gabriel and more agile than Raphael, only at a disadvantage due to their wings outnumbering his. More impressively, Castiel had the most important trait of a good flyer. He clearly _loved_ being in the air, flying like he was made for no other purpose. Gabriel suspected the fledgling would have been whooping and spinning just like Gabriel did if it weren’t too undignified to do in front of an Archangel.

Gabriel was so engrossed in the fledgling that he almost didn’t notice the new movement by his feet, an unremarkable little grey fish swimming in the waves and being pushed up the shore. This was it, then! The first animal to make its home on land.

Castiel landed soon after Gabriel looked down, almost on top of the fish. Gabriel reached out quickly, catching Castiel’s arm and pulling him back, keeping it safe. “Don’t step on that fish, Castiel,” he murmured, looping his arms around his baby brother’s chest to hold him still. “Big plans for that fish.”

“What is it?” Castiel whispered back, reaching up to curl his fingers around Gabriel’s hands, watching the fish with his big eyes.

“It’s the start of Father’s greatest creation.” Gabriel drew Castiel back another step, giving the fish plenty of room to pull itself out of the water completely. “Remember this night, Castiel.” The fledgling sighed happily at his name, resting his head against Gabriel’s arm. “You and I are witnessing the start of their history.”

Castiel watched the fish with Gabriel for a long time, but the fish didn’t do anything exciting. It lay on the sand and just breathed, one black eye focused on the two angels. Gabriel didn’t mind, though. An hour watching a fish was still the blink of an eye to him, after all his thousands of years. He actually liked this, liked standing on the Earth with one of his baby brothers in his arms, encouraging the younger angel to open up his heart to this planet and all the living things on it.

“It’s ugly,” Castiel declared, and Gabriel started laughing, all his wings shaking with his mirth.

“Someday, little one, you’ll understand.” Gabriel tightened his arms around Castiel and scooped him off the ground. Castiel’s wings beat the air as Gabriel swooped the Angel over his head. “You’ve been away from your garrison for a while. Will they be looking for you?”

Castiel spread his arms out and shook his head. “Probably not. Nobody ever notices me go missing. Only when I’m in the way.”

“We should get you back home anyway,” Gabriel decided, making a mental note to pull Cariel aside and discuss possible ways to get Castiel transferred into his choir. No angel should ever be made to feel like they were underwing, and several somebodies in Raphael’s choir were clearly slacking if _six years_ after his Awakening, Castiel still felt horrible over what had happened that day. “Let’s fly together, shall we? We can race back to Heaven!”

Castiel nodded excitedly at that, and he trilled a few happy notes as Gabriel flung him into the air, his wings automatically beating to stop him from falling. Gabriel took off beside him and started to lead the way back home, though he held back and let Castiel just barely inch ahead. “Argh! You’re beating me!”

“You’re not flying hard enough!” Castiel cried back, squaring his shoulders and pushing his little wings even faster.

Gabriel laughed as they both ripped through the planes and into Heaven’s bright light. The air here was a much busier place, filled with Seraphim and Dominions and Angels flitting to and fro. Gabriel soared above most of the crowd and tugged Castiel up with him, holding his hand so the fledgling wouldn’t fall. “Raphael is in the east. I’m sure we’ll find someone from your garrison there.”

Castiel nodded and clung to Gabriel’s hand as they flew leisurely above Heaven. “I’ve never been this high!”

“I won’t let you go. I’m not mean like Sammael!” Gabriel promised, earning a giggle from the fledgling.

They were only halfway between the Garden and Raphael’s tower when the Archangel of the Air came swooping down on them, his wings spread. “Gabriel.”

“Raphael.” Gabriel hovered before his brother, gathering Castiel into his arms. The fledgling had already fallen silent, ducking his head in respect to his choirmaster. Gabriel bristled at the change in the child’s demeanor. He was acting _scared_ of Raphael. A good choirmaster should instill a sense of love and loyalty in his angels, not _fear_!

“Are you trying to steal one of my Angels?” Though Raphael’s tone was dry, there was no seriousness in his words. Raphael’s grace spoke of regretful confidence that no other Archangel would try to poach this particular Angel.

“I was actually returning him home,” Gabriel explained. “I found Castiel on Earth. We swapped some stories, and he showed me how well he can fly. At his age! You must be very proud.” Castiel’s fingers curled into Gabriel’s wings again, but the fledgling didn’t attempt to even lift his head.

“A fledgling who flies before he can understand where not to is more of an annoyance than something to be proud of,” Raphael grumbled, reaching out for the Angel. “Give him to me. I will take him back to Ezekiel.”

Gabriel’s arms tightened around Castiel, and for a moment he debated _not_ handing Castiel over. Maybe he could just steal Castiel away, secret him into one of Zachariah’s garrisons—Anael’s had Balthazar, Castiel’s partner, if he was remembering correctly. Or maybe it was Hester’s garrison with Balthazar. Castiel would be able to thrive with Anael anyway. She was one of the gentlest Dominions Gabriel knew.

But if Gabriel stole Castiel, Raphael would chase him down and catch him, and he’d take Castiel away for good. Or maybe he’d just go to Michael, and Michael would chastise Gabriel and make him feel two feet tall. No, if he were going to take Castiel from Raphael, he’d need to find a legitimate way of doing so.

As Gabriel reluctantly passed the fledgling to his twin, he accompanied it with a polite little nod. “Thank you for spending the evening with me, Castiel. Here.” He reached into his wings, plucking one gold-edged feather and handing it out to the young angel. “Remember what I said. This night was a night you should never forget.”

Castiel didn’t seem to want to let go of Gabriel, but he accepted the feather silently, hugging it against his chest. He tipped his head up just enough to peek out at Gabriel, and Gabriel reached in to rub his cheek. “Good night, Castiel, Raphael.”

“Good night, Gabriel,” Raphael answered, before turning sharply and flying off.

Gabriel watched them go before bolting back to his own tower. “Cariel!” As soon as possible, Castiel would be his.


	5. Hypercane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angels have had fun with the dinosaurs, but God has decided to put a stop to all that nonsense. Time to get serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research for this chapter, and by research, I mean I watched quite a few documentaries and read some articles on what might have happened. I picked my favorite theories and ran with them. Any historical inaccuracies are completely my own fault and were deliberately placed there to improve the dramatic nature of this chapter.
> 
> Thank you to everyone offering me kudos! It makes me smile when I get the notice. :)

### Hypercane

“The sea is boiling, Gabriel!”

“The ocean floor was on fire!”

“Gabriel, the land is flooded!”

“Forests are burning!”

“The animals are dying, Gabriel!”

“What do we do?”

“Gabriel!”

“ _What do we do!?_ “

Gabriel stood at the very peak of a mountain on the opposite side of the Earth from the disaster unfolding. His Seraphim flickered in and out of existence around him, trying frantically to direct their garrisons to gain some semblance of control while simultaneously reporting their failures to him and begging for direction. Earth was the domain of Gabriel’s choir, and every minute he stood silent was another minute the world burned.

Cariel stood by Gabriel’s side, trying to control the press of angels, keeping them away from their motionless choirmaster, but Gabriel could feel even his trusted lieutenant shooting him worried glances. A massive rock had slammed into the ocean less than an hour ago, and already, the entire choir could feel the Earth’s screams of pain. Despite this, Gabriel had not moved once since the impact. Aside from a deep groan when the rock struck the planet, Gabriel had not made a sound. His eyes were fixed on the clouds from the far side of the planet, distant, focused, listening to something no one else could hear.

The Earth had changed immensely since Gabriel had stood with one of his fledgling brothers at the edge of an ocean, watching a solitary fish make the first trudge out of the waves. That one fish had become millions of creatures, from tiny furry rodents to towering reptiles. The land had pulled apart, creating multiple oceans between the continents. The green fuzz of early plants had shot up, reaching for the sun. Gabriel’s angels had settled in, blanketing the planet in their presence. Zachariah’s garrisons, especially the new Cherubim-filled ones, focused on the living creatures, encouraging their favorites to grow and multiply, shutting down less-favorable branches of evolution. Barachiel’s concentrated on the planet itself, sculpting and shaping the surface with winds and water and heat. Jeremiel’s had turned their attentions to the plants. Cariel’s garrisons had risen above the rest, keeping everything organized and moving smoothly.

And now a huge rock had smashed through all their work, shattering the fragile balance Gabriel’s choir had maintained for millions of years. They turned to Gabriel for answers, and Gabriel turned to his Father, but God was silent.

“Gabriel?”

Cariel’s quiet voice was accompanied by a touch to Gabriel’s arm. The Archangel started abruptly, turning his gaze to the Seraph. “Yes?”

“Do you have any revelation for us?”

Cariel’s Dominions made a ring around Gabriel, their wings outstretched, holding back the pleading Seraphim. Only Cariel was inside the ring with him, and only Cariel looked to Gabriel without expectation of answers. Gabriel’s wings flexed and tucked against his back before he gave a little shake of his head. God had given him no guidance for this.

“Gabriel!” Sammael slammed into the mountainside next to his brother, three of his Seraphim touching down beside him. “What is going on here? Your whole choir’s drained out of Heaven, and the Earth is shuddering!”

Sammael’s choir was one for excess. While Michael managed Heaven, Raphael the Borderlands, and Gabriel Earth, Sammael’s choir existed solely to supplement his brothers’. He had no one domain for himself, but rather, he inserted his angels wherever they were needed.

Gabriel was never more grateful to see his older brother. If he hadn’t been surrounded by his own Seraphim, he would have flung himself straight into Sammael’s arms. Sammael always made everything better. “Sammael… I… the Earth was hit by a rock.”

“A _giant_ rock,” Cariel muttered, as if that made a difference, though he gave a miniscule bow to the new Archangel. Sammael ignored Cariel to focus on Gabriel.

“How can a rock cause this much distress?” Sammael asked, cocking his head to the side uncomprehendingly.

“It was bigger than all the Archangels together,” Gabriel said. “It caught fire as it fell, and it slammed into the ocean. The tidal wave alone has stripped miles of land completely bare. The heat is making the sea boil above the impact and igniting the plants. Storms are forming, and just the lightning from those is concerning, much less the wind and rains.”

“So we put out the fires and cool the sea.” Sammael gave a firm nod. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Gabriel said weakly. “This is… it’s already wiped out a massive portion of life from the impact zone, and looking ahead…” He tilted his head back, staring up at the sun. “Within a week, most of the world will be dead.”

“So we _stop it_.”

“I don’t think you _understand_!” Gabriel repeated, whirling around to face his brother, his hands clenched into fists. “Father isn’t saying anything!”

Sammael took a step back, his wings flaring in shock. “He’s… not?”

Gabriel shook his head, reaching up to press his hands against his face. “Ordinarily, Father gives me some direction when a cataclysm strikes the Earth. Even just a feeling of approval when I’ve chosen the path He most wants. This time… nothing. He wants nothing from us.”

“He _wants_ us to watch the world burn?”

Gabriel lifted his thoughts back to Heaven, trying to reach his Father again. This was much harder when he was surrounded by other angels. Ordinarily, seeking revelation was a solitary, meditative activity. Gabriel had to force his awareness of his brothers away. Distantly, he could hear Cariel snapping at the other Seraphim to _shut up, just shut up already!_

_Father?_

There, just there, on the very edge of Gabriel’s awareness, he could feel the brightness that signaled his Father’s presence. He stretched his grace as much as he could, trying to connect with the light. _Father, please!_ No matter how far he reached, his Father stayed just ahead of him, refusing to reach back and enfold Gabriel in His warm love.

Gabriel’s grace faltered and faded, and Gabriel shrank back from the absolute indifference projecting from his Father. Never before had he been so shunned by his Father. _Is this what You want, Father? Do You want the winds to rage, the world to burn, the animals to **die**?_

God’s answer, when it came, was deafening. Gabriel snapped out of his revelation, falling back with a scream of pain, clutching at his head. Only Sammael and Cariel diving to catch him kept him from tumbling off the mountain.

_**YES.** _

Gabriel hung limply between Sammael and Cariel’s hands, aware of the absolute silence surrounding him. Not one of his angels or Sammael’s were speaking. They were all frozen in fear at the sight of a collapsed Archangel. Gabriel’s head throbbed, and he couldn’t find the coordination to move his limbs or even twitch a wing. His vision was spotted with black, and his spirit prickled with specks of pain. God had shouted into his mind, the force of His voice scouring him raw from the inside out.

“Fetch Raphael. Go _now_. Hurry!”

Sammael was speaking. Gabriel was only dimly aware of his brother’s voice. He gave a whine as two warm hands drew away from him, and the other two cooler ones lowered Gabriel to the ground, cradling his head gently.

“Gabriel? Gabriel, look at me. Little brother, focus on _me_.”

Cool hands wrapped around the sides of Gabriel’s face, and Gabriel could make out the shape of Sammael kneeling over him. He managed to twitch one of his hands, but that sent a spike of pain ricocheting throughout Gabriel’s whole spirit and he cried out again.

“Who’s next in charge here?” Sammael snapped. “You and you! Get back to Heaven, prepare his tower for his return. You three go with mine, keep an eye on the disaster. All the rest of you, clear out! Give us space!”

Gabriel whined at Sammael’s raised voice, turning his head in to press against Sammael’s cool chest. Sammael was always the coldest of the angels, while Gabriel burned the hottest, but right now Sammael’s coolness helped to numb some of the agonizing pain that lanced through him.

Two bright comets of grace slammed down on the mountaintop: Raphael and Michael. Sammael growled, sheltering Gabriel with his arms and wings. A third landed much more gently than the Archangels: Cariel, anxiously peering around the mass of wings to see Gabriel.

“What happened?” Michael demanded, pushing Sammael’s wings open. Gabriel whined and managed to lift a hand toward Michael. Michael was here now. Michael always made things right again. Gabriel’s oldest brother caught his hand and squeezed gently. “Sammael, what happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Sammael admitted quietly. “He was trying to speak with Father about what was happening here on Earth, and he just screamed out and fell.”

“If Father hurt him, I can’t help,” Raphael pointed out blandly, finally moving to kneel beside Gabriel. His grace was absolutely impassive as he pulled his twin into his lap. One hand pressed against the side of Gabriel’s face, and Gabriel tried to twitch away from the uncomfortable pressure. “What Father does should not be undone by angels.”

Gabriel didn’t want to be in Raphael’s arms. He wriggled and hissed in pain with each movement, but he reached determinedly for Michael and Sammael. His oldest brothers exchanged a look above him, and Gabriel huffed, upset at their silent communication.

A new pair of hands slipped in to cradle his head, and Gabriel rolled back enough to see Cariel crouched behind him. “You need to stay still, Boss,” Cariel said, smoothing his thumbs over Gabriel’s face. “I know you think Raphael’s a pompous jackass, but he’s also the best Healer in all of Heaven.”

“You presume quite a bit, Seraph.” Raphael’s voice was a low rumble, threatening and dangerous. Michael and Sammael remained silent, though Gabriel could tell even from this angle that they were watching.

Cariel didn’t back down from Raphael. His fingers didn’t even twitch against Gabriel’s spirit as he calmly met the more powerful angel’s gaze. “It’s no secret you and Gabriel hate each other. I’m only echoing his own words. He’s said far worse to your own face.”

“Car…” Gabriel managed to murmur half of his Seraph’s name, and he stretched one wing up to brush against Cariel’s arm. If Cariel got himself blown away by Raphael’s temper _now_ …

Cariel softened as Gabriel called to him, looking down at his fallen choirmaster. “If you behave for Raphael, so will I.”

Gabriel sighed, losing his strength to hold his wing up. He gave Cariel a little nod and drooped in Raphael’s lap, submitting to his brother’s ministrations.

“I should smite you where you stand,” Raphael muttered to Cariel, but Michael reached in to place a restraining hand on his arm.

“You won’t, because he’s managed to get Gabriel to behave, a feat none of us have managed.” Michael’s tone was light, trying to gentle his brothers. “Raphael, do what you can for him. Sammael, keep an eye on things here. You, Cariel? Don’t let him move again until Raphael says it’s okay.” Michael gave Gabriel’s hand one more gentle squeeze before passing it over to Sammael and rising up.

“Where are you going?” Sammael demanded, curling his fingers around Gabriel’s.

“I’m going to see what’s going on with Earth.” Michael was already looking over to the west. “We can’t assume it will take care of itself while we all fuss over Gabriel.”

“No…” Gabriel shook his head against Cariel’s hands, trying to reach for Michael, but Raphael’s hands were back on him again, one pressed against the side of his head, the other touching his throat, over his core. Gabriel could feel his brother pressing energy into him, soothing healing grace that numbed the pain and turned the inside of his head fuzzy instead of feeling scraped clean. “Father… He said… no…” The last thing Gabriel remembered seeing were Cariel and Sammael’s faces, bent over him, Seraph and Archangel looking concerned.

When Gabriel opened his eyes again, he was faced with a wall of red glass. _His_ wall. In his tower. In Heaven. He sat up slowly, pushing his wings aside where they had been draped over his spirit. He still felt sluggish, like none of his limbs wanted to obey his mind, but at least nothing _hurt_. Pain was rare among the angels, and none of them liked it. The younger angels, the Cherubim and Angels, tended to get hurt the most. Archangels rarely had more than a brief twinge of discomfort at the worst. Their grace was strong enough to shelter them from most forms of damage.

Grace apparently counted for nothing in the face of their Father’s rage. Gabriel winced, raising a hand to his head in memory of the agony that had been just one word shouted from God.

“You’re awake!”

Jolted from his reminiscing, Gabriel looked up sharply at his visitor. Cariel stood in the doorway to his room, holding a silver bowl. The Seraph rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Gabriel to peer up anxiously into his face. “Are you still hurt? Raphael said he did all he could…”

“No, nothing hurts.” Gabriel let his hand drop, looking around slowly. “I just feel very slow. How did we end up here?”

“Sammael carried you back, once Raphael said there was nothing else he could do.” Cariel set the bowl aside and rested his hands lightly on Gabriel’s knees. “He has been alternating between spending time with you here and helping Michael on Earth. Raphael is there too. They’ve been trying to battle massive storms spawned by the rock that fell last week, but…” Cariel lowered his gaze and his wings. “We’re losing, Gabriel. The sun… it’s managed to _cook_ the Earth. Almost all life has been utterly destroyed. Just a few things that live in the ground or deep in the oceans have survived this far. I’m sorry. We’ve been doing all we can, but even the Archangels are powerless in the face of this disaster.”

Gabriel pressed his hands to his face and shook his head. “I need to tell them… Father told me to stop. He said He _wanted_ the Earth to die.”

“He wouldn’t…”

“It’s why I fell,” Gabriel admitted, pushing himself off the low cot he had been lying on. Where had that come from? “He was so _angry_ , Cariel. Michael always said we should never test our Father for fear of His wrath, but I never thought…”

“Sit down.” Cariel grabbed at Gabriel’s arms and pulled him back onto the cot. Gabriel felt too weak to resist. The presence of his wings pulled him back, his head bumping lightly against the wall behind him. “I’ll let them know. You stay here and _rest_.”

“Thank you, Cariel,” Gabriel murmured, his eyes slipping closed again. “What would I do without you?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Gabriel felt Cariel’s grace press close against his, brushing over his face in a gentle caress. Gabriel turned into the gesture of comfort but did not open his eyes. He barely heard the rustle of Cariel’s wings before losing track of the universe again.

The next time Gabriel awoke, it was to the sound of two of his brothers singing softly. _Michael and Sammael._ He recognized their unique harmony even before he opened his eyes and saw them sitting together beside him. Michael was holding Gabriel’s hands between his, leaning forward slightly, his wings trailing behind him. Sammael sat at Michael’s back, carding his fingers through wind-tousled feathers, grooming them back into line. Both Archangels’ graces were dimmer than usual, weakened from strenuous use. Nevertheless, Michael’s brightened when he noticed Gabriel’s alert gaze, breaking off the song and brushing one of his lower wings along Gabriel’s side. “You worried us all, Little One. Your choir was starting to wonder if they would need to sing a lament for you.”

Sammael tucked Michael’s wing aside to stretch up over his brother’s shoulder, leaning his head against Michael’s to peer down at Gabriel. His arms wrapped around the oldest Archangel’s waist. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an angel sleep before. I didn’t even know it was _possible_. You always manage to surprise us.”

“If that is what sleep is like, I don’t care for it,” Gabriel answered, freeing one hand from Michael’s so he could push himself up again. He moved easier now, and his wings were once again weightless and responsive at his back.

“What _was_ it like?” Ever curious, Sammael’s head was tipping to the side, pushing Michael’s along with it. Michael didn’t fight the gesture. He usually let Sammael get his own way. “It was nothing,” Gabriel tried to explain. “It was absolutely nothing—no sight, no sounds, not even the feel of the Host within me. I didn’t even realize time passed.”

“Time _has_ passed,” Michael said. “It has been seven days since Cariel came for Raphael and me, after you first collapsed, and another hour since he alerted us to your message from Father. You were… asleep, again, when we arrived.”

“It feels like I only just saw Cariel here,” Gabriel gestured at the otherwise empty room. “And then like I had just been on Earth.”

“Sleep sounds strange. I don’t think I’d like it very much,” Sammael decided.

“Good thing you don’t need it, Light Bringer,” Michael retorted fondly, reaching down to cover one of Sammael’s hands with his own.

“What did I miss?” Gabriel asked, looking between his brothers. “Cariel mentioned the world had burned?”

Michael and Sammael exchanged another glance before they moved together, each climbing off the floor to sit on the cot on either side of Gabriel. Wings and arms wrapped around him, and Gabriel knew their news would not be good.

“We did all we could,” Michael murmured.

“The over-heated ocean created massive storms. Raphael tried to slow their spin, but even he was blown away by their winds.” Sammael reached up to tip Gabriel’s head against his shoulder. “They pulled water into the atmosphere, destroying it. The Earth was defenseless against the sun’s rays.”

“Every creature on land died.” Michael’s arm curled around Gabriel’s waist. “All of the giants are gone.”

“We tried to protect the planet for you,” Sammael closed his eyes and rested his head against Gabriel’s. “I suppose the good news is that the _planet_ is still in one piece.”

“Did _anything_ survive?” Gabriel asked quietly.

“Some did.” Michael rubbed a wing over Gabriel’s. “Little burrowing creatures, creatures in the water, a few birds. Anything that could hide. Once we realized we couldn’t stop the storms, we concentrated on protecting what hadn’t yet died.”

“The planet is already recovering,” Sammael assured Gabriel. “Like you, it is remarkably resilient. The ocean has returned to a normal temperature, the fires are dying down, and Raphael is determined to repair the atmosphere as soon as Father permits.”

“Has anyone spoken with Father?”

Michael and Sammael exchanged another look over Gabriel’s head. Michael finally answered his question. “Father has been… distant. He’s in the Borderlands now. No one has attempted to approach Him since your collapse.”

The Borderlands were Raphael’s domain, a dull, shifting greyness that wriggled between every realm, like between Heaven and Earth. They were also a wide band surrounding the entire universe, keeping it separate from any other universe that might exist. By jumping into the Borderlands, an angel could theoretically find the lost realms of Purgatory or Limbo, but the Borderlands were also home to weird and frightening creatures, some of which attempted to break into an inhabited realm. Raphael’s angels stoically patrolled them, fighting off any threat that might come their way. The Borderlands were all that remained of the Void the Archangels had once flown through. Gabriel hated them and always tried to make his passage through them as short as possible.

The Archangel closed his eyes and swallowed back a shiver of fear. “I should speak with Him.” Gabriel flinched as he remembered the feeling of God’s voice in his head, shouting, boiling through his mind. His brothers’ wings tightened around him, and Gabriel gratefully turned into Sammael’s cool chest, trusting Michael at his back. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “I’m scared of Him.”

Michael shifted, blanketing Gabriel completely with his wings, both of his hands moving up to Gabriel’s back. “I was scared too, when Father first displayed His wrath.” He fell silent, rubbing gently, working away the tension between Gabriel’s wings. “I thought He would smite me where I stood. Never before, and never since, had I ever been so terrified.”

“You’ve never mentioned this before.” Sammael’s voice was quiet, as if he was afraid of scaring away Michael’s reminiscing. Gabriel understood the sentiment. He had known Michael had seen God’s wrath firsthand at one time, but Michael _never_ mentioned the incident. Gabriel didn’t even know what had caused it, or if God had been wrathful _at_ Michael or if the angel had simply been an unrelated witness.

“I suppose I’m still scared of it.”

Gabriel turned his head to look back at Michael, and his brother leaned forward to nuzzle against him. “Yes, Little One, even _I_ can be scared of things.”

“What happened?” Sammael stretched his wings around Gabriel, wrapping them around Michael as well and pulling him close, forcing the three of them into an Archangel sandwich with Gabriel in the middle.

“You don’t remember? You were there.” Michael closed his eyes, resting his head against Gabriel’s back. “I suppose you wouldn’t, though. You were injured, dying.”

“ _Dying_!?” Sammael shook his head. “I’d think I’d remember _that_!”

“Father may have suppressed your memories, or removed them. It wasn’t your fault.” Michael didn’t lift his head as he spoke, and Gabriel didn’t move, didn’t want to shake Michael off, even accidentally. “I failed you once, Sammael. Just once. Once was enough to nearly cause your death.”

“What happened?” Sammael repeated, creeping his hands around Gabriel to touch Michael. Gabriel felt like his brothers were forgetting he was even there, pressed between them. As the smallest Archangel, he was accustomed to feeling overlooked, but not usually by these two.

Michael was silent for a very long time, eventually shaking his head and sitting back, forcing his grace brighter. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. It happened long ago, before time. Let’s focus on the events now, and fixing the Earth.”

Gabriel looked between his brothers, watching them watching each other, wondering how much they spoke mind-to-mind when they did this. Sammael's eyes narrowed, clearly unhappy with whatever Michael was (or wasn't) telling him privately, though he was the first to break their gaze. “Earth,” Sammael echoed, releasing Michael to stroke Gabriel's wings again. “Yes. We should look to Earth.”

“Maybe we shouldn't,” Gabriel suggested quietly. “Father wasn't happy. Maybe we should wait for His directions before attempting to interfere further.”

Michael nodded behind Gabriel, his hands dropping to slide around Gabriel's waist. “You do have a point. Father intended Earth to be for His 'greatest creation.' Perhaps we should wait for His return before making another move.”

“I hate waiting,” Sammael grumbled. Michael swept his wings forward, covering all three of them in his feathers.

“Patience, brother. We must all be patient.”


	6. Hello Joshua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the disastrous death of the dinosaurs, Gabriel seeks God’s forgiveness.

### Hello Joshua

Gabriel retreated to the Garden as soon as Raphael declared him healed—Michael hadn’t let him go without Raphael’s blessing, and Sammael had threatened to sit on Gabriel’s wings if he hadn’t agreed. Cariel had tried to follow Gabriel, but Gabriel ordered him to stay in his tower and try to restore some semblance of order to their choir. All of his angels had been withdrawn from Earth. Most of them flitted about Heaven uselessly, their graces radiating loss and despair.

In the Garden, Gabriel felt just as lost as his choir. He knelt in the middle, head bowed, wings tucked, and pressed his hands together. He wasn’t praying. He was just waiting.

Other angels came and went in the Garden, as Heaven returned to its usual rhythms, though they gave Gabriel’s silent vigil a wide berth. Michael and Raphael’s choirs barely twitched at the destruction inflicted to Earth, while Sammael’s gossiped blatantly over the channels shared among all the angels. Gabriel was pleased to hear his angels staying quiet, only speaking up to clarify an event when questioned. They were all hyperaware that _something_ had gone very wrong, and their choirmaster was awaiting God’s verdict.

“Excuse me, sir?”

An angel had approached Gabriel, one of the Cherubim, the youngest and weakest of the angels. Gabriel didn’t move, but he did touch a tendril of his grace to his young brother, identifying him. _Joshua._ One of Michael’s choir, from the feel of his grace. He felt young, very young… and yet he also felt _old_ , very old.

“I have a message for you?”

No Cherub should feel old. None of Gabriel’s Cherubim had this contrast of ages. Something was different about Joshua. Gabriel slowly opened his eyes

“Either you have a message, or you do not. Have confidence in your task, for even the smallest request could have universal ramifications.” His voice was quiet, unused for the entire span of time he had knelt in the Garden. Days? Years? Eons? Gabriel wasn’t sure. Time was measured in relation to Earth, and at the center of Heaven, the Garden was isolated from anything as tangible as time.

“I have a message for you.” Joshua repeated his statement with more conviction this time, and Gabriel had to ruffle his wings very slightly in pleased amusement. Now he lifted his head to meet the Cherub’s gaze.

Joshua was an utterly unimpressive angel. He was smaller than Gabriel, but not the smallest Cherub the Archangel had seen. He had one set of thin, dark wings, tucked in neatly against his back, though a couple feathers were disheveled as if he’d been called abruptly out of flight. His eyes were disproportionately large for his face, glowing with a deep well of love and care, but otherwise, there was absolutely nothing distinguishing Joshua from the legions of his brothers.

Nevertheless, Gabriel softened his grace and gave a little nod to the Cherub. He pulled his hands apart, gesturing stiffly for Joshua to sit before him on the soft grass of the garden. As Joshua moved, Gabriel noted that he stepped very carefully so as not to disturb the plants any more than necessary.

“They aren’t real,” he commented, as Joshua contorted his wings to get under a low-hanging branch without nudging it. “This garden is an ever-changing construct designed to bring us peace and comfort.”

“Just because their existence is fleeting does not make them any less real than you or I, in the moments while they are here,” Joshua answered. “Just because they are born and die at our Father’s whim, in the blink of an eye, does not make them any less deserving of our care and nurturing.”

Was Joshua scolding Gabriel? No, not really, but this certainly _was_ a gentle chiding. Gabriel closed his eyes and ducked his head minisculely. “You’re right, little brother. I don’t often give much thought to the things in Heaven.”

“Your focus has long been on Earth.”

Gabriel nodded. “For many thousands, millions of years, my choir has cared for Earth. We’ve watched it, shaped it, loved it. And now our Lord has chosen to destroy it.”

“Our Lord?” Joshua questioned. “You don’t call Him Father?”

Ducking his head further, Gabriel pressed his hands together again, the words stuck in his throat. Joshua didn’t pressure Gabriel, he just sat with him. In Joshua’s undemanding companionship, the words eventually relaxed and Gabriel could speak them, though his voice was barely audible. “I don’t know if I deserve to.”

“My message.” Joshua reached forward, wrapping his small hands around Gabriel’s clasped ones. “Father has not forsaken you, Gabriel, Messenger of Heaven. Father loves you still. He is not upset at how your choir has handled Earth, but rather, He was upset that the other creatures had choked out those He had chosen to be His greatest; like weeds in a garden, strangling the flowers. He needed to rip them out at the root, so His own could flourish. He… mourns the anguish He caused you.”

“Your message comes from God Himself?” Gabriel lifted his head to stare at Joshua. How could it be possible, that God was speaking through this Cherub? This small, young brother… who radiated great age, because God’s presence was filling him. Gabriel turned his hands to catch Joshua’s, squeezing them tightly. The Cherub did not flinch, did not stop radiating serenity through his grace. God was _here_. He was here, and He was not turning His back to Gabriel. The force of the Archangel’s relief flooding his grace made his wings tremble. He was glad he was already kneeling, or he might have collapsed from the revelation.

Joshua nodded. “You were, understandably, not the best messenger to use this time. Father thought it best to get word to you through a neutral party. He did not want to hurt you further.” The Cherub lifted one hand, brushing two fingers over Gabriel’s head. “Your spirit is healed, but it is still raw. If Father stood before you Himself, you may take irreparable damage. He would not have you suffer needlessly.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “ _Thank you._ “

“Father loves you,” Joshua repeated, leaning in to brush his grace against Gabriel’s forehead, a gentle blessing. “He would have your choir return to Earth now, to clean up the mess left by His necessary intervention and return to your usual duties.”

“With no further direction?” Gabriel opened his eyes to look at Joshua, puzzled. “How can we prevent this from happening again? I don’t want to incur another incident of His wrath…”

“He will take a more direct role in guiding His greatest creations,” Joshua answered. “Pay attention for signs of His handiwork, and your choir will not run counter to His will again.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel repeated for the third time. “I will return to my choir. We will begin our work again.”

Joshua released Gabriel’s hands and rose to his feet, giving his wings a light shake. Gabriel stood as well, stretching the kinks out of his own wings. “God’s peace be with you, brother,” the Cherub said, dwarfed now by Gabriel’s size.

“And also with you.”


	7. Goodbye Unicorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael tries to get rid of Castiel by sending him to certain death, but Castiel can’t do ANYTHING right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unicorns in this chapter were heavily borrowed from Diana Peterfreund's _Rampant_ books. I did a horrible justice to them, but if you like blood-thirsty unicorn, go check out her books!

### Goodbye Unicorns

On a beach on a little island in the middle of the largest ocean, Gabriel sprawled on his belly. His wings were fanned out around him to better take in the sun as he soaked up the heat from the volcanic black sand he laid on. Angels as a rule did not need to sleep, but Gabriel had found that long periods of lazy restfulness felt absolutely delicious and recharged his spirit almost as much as meditation in the Garden.

“Gabriel?”

A hesitant voice interrupted Gabriel’s not-a-nap, and the Archangel grumbled as he stirred. One of his little brothers, an Angel, by the feel of it, was fidgeting near his largest wingtip. Gabriel lifted his head, propping it up on one hand as he looked over at the brother who intruded on his rest.

Castiel shifted his weight again, clutching the gold-edged feather Gabriel had given him millions of years ago, every ounce of his tattered grace radiating distress. Gabriel sat up immediately, his grumbles forgotten in favor of immediate worry as he reached for the injured Angel. “Castiel! What on Earth are you doing on Earth?”

Castiel hesitated for a few seconds before flitting to Gabriel, pressing desperately against his chest and shivering in his embrace. This Angel was still one of Raphael’s. Gabriel’s constant attempts to finagle him out of Raphael’s grasp and into his own choir had not yet succeeded, but Gabriel still kept his eye on his brother. The members of Castiel’s garrison were all trained as warriors to fight the threats that came from the Borderlands. Castiel himself had proven skilled with a sword, and as Gabriel had predicted, his talent for flight had exploded as his wings matured. Unfortunately, he was still very out of step with Heaven. Everywhere Castiel went, little mishaps sprung up in his wake. They were never directly Castiel’s fault and rarely caused injury, but the rumors were already spreading that this Angel had been cursed by God.

Castiel was no longer a fledgling, but only just barely considered full-grown. Out of all the ranks of the Host, Angels aged the slowest. The Cherubim spent almost no time as fledglings, and the Seraphim had been considered children for thousands of years, but there were still some later-awakened Angels not yet fully grown. In Gabriel’s eyes, Castiel was still very much a child. His relative immaturity was highlighted by how obviously scared the Angel was. He clutched at Gabriel’s wings as the Archangel wrapped him in them, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t know who else to go to…”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re with me. You’re safe.” Gabriel ran his hands down Castiel’s back, petting the younger angel and repeating his mantra over and over again until Castiel’s wings slumped and his arms loosened. Castiel twisted in Gabriel’s embrace so he was curled sideways in his older brother’s lap, resting his cheek against the Archangel’s shoulder. “What happened, Castiel? Where is the rest of your garrison? How were you injured?”

“They’re still in the Borderlands,” Castiel said. “I was assigned to fulfill a special task on Earth. It… didn’t go as planned.”

“Oh?” Gabriel’s wings twitched. _He_ hadn’t requested Castiel come to Earth, nor had he delivered a message to anyone in Raphael’s choir with such a request from God or Sammael. Earth was still Gabriel’s domain. “Who assigned you?”

“Remiel said the order came from Raphael himself. He said it was a great honor, and I should be proud.”

Gabriel snorted derisively. To be singled out by Raphael was rarely a thing of pride in that choir. Raphael didn’t believe in any one angel deserving greater accolades than the rest of his garrison. He only singled out angels he felt deserved punishments. Still, many angels believed _any_ individual attention from an Archangel was worthy of praise. “Raphael had no right to send you to Earth alone, unless he was using you to deliver a message to me. Was he?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was supposed to handle a threat to humanity that you were ignoring.”

“ _Ignoring_!? That pompous _twit_! I’ll show him…”

In Gabriel’s arms, Castiel flinched from Gabriel’s wrath. The Archangel noticed and immediately cut himself off, closing his eyes and forcing his anger down. He resumed stroking Castiel’s back, letting the presence of the younger angel remind him why anger was not a good response now. Castiel’s grace was still pitted and weak, so Gabriel began stitching the torn edges together with a thread of his own grace, healing his little brother. He wasn’t as adept at this as his twin, but even he could patch up frayed grace. “What sort of threat, Castiel?” Gabriel knew every inch of this Earth, knew every location of every human settlement. He watched over his Father’s greatest creations, and he would have known if there was a threat dangerous enough to concern Raphael. There wasn’t. Nevertheless, it made a great loophole for the Archangel of the Air. Raphael’s domain was technically the _defense_ of Heaven and its treasures, and _technically_ , humanity counted as one of the greatest treasures of Heaven. If Raphael felt humans were endangered, he could interfere on Earth, even though it wasn’t his standard region.

“Unicorns,” Castiel whispered, unable to not flinch at the name of the beasts.

Out of the millions of creatures that had developed from the survivors of God’s wrath, many of them were in some way detrimental to humanity, God’s obvious favorites. A small handful, however, had managed to evolve traits that could injure even angels. There was one creature, known as Eve, who seemed to take a perverse delight in creating angel-attacking monsters. Three of Gabriel’s garrisons hunted Eve constantly. Five Angels and Cherubim had been killed before a reluctant truce had formed—the angels would harry Eve, but they wouldn’t get close enough to kill her, and she would hurl nasty monsters at them, but none were truly _deadly_.

Of the nasty monsters Eve had created, unicorns were some of the biggest pains. They were larger than horses, with a single venomous horn stretching out from their forehead. Unlike horses, they had vicious, slashing fangs, and their favorite meal was fresh human flesh. While docile and sweet around virginal humans, they turned into raging monsters the moment they sensed a more experienced human, and they had a special bloodlust that they reserved solely for angels. The venom from their horns was one of very few things that could infect an angel’s grace, weakening it, eating holes through it like acid. Now that Gabriel looked closer at Castiel’s, he could make out the distinctive burned edges indicating damage from unicorn venom.

Gabriel was reluctant to completely wipe out _any_ creature, even something as painfully nasty for humans as the unicorns, lest he invoke the wrath of God again, so he had one full garrison set aside simply to tend to them. They managed to kill off the majority of the beasts, leaving just one nomadic herd. Of that herd, they culled the males to keep it from growing out of hand. At the moment, there was only one adult male unicorn and one female pregnant with a male. All of the twenty-six other unicorns and their unborn offspring were female.

“Unicorns,” Gabriel repeated. Castiel winced again and nodded. Gabriel closed his eyes and stilled his hands for a moment, counting to ten before resuming his care. “Castiel, I have an entire garrison monitoring the unicorns.”

“I was told they were too close to a human settlement and needed to be moved away. I was told to corral them and shift them further south.”

“And you were sent alone?”

Castiel nodded, and Gabriel couldn’t help the twist of his major wings, spreading his feathers out to reveal their knife-sharp edges, little tongues of flame licking between the shafts. If Raphael stood before him, Gabriel would have slashed at his face. Castiel was barely more than a fledgling Angel. Gabriel wouldn’t have sent a full-grown Seraph to face down the unicorns alone. Gabriel wouldn’t have challenged the unicorns _himself_ without at least one other angel for backup, just in case. One solo Angel was lucky to have escaped with his life.

“They attacked you.”

“I _tried_!” Castiel pressed his hands to his eyes, shaking his head violently. “I could outmaneuver them at first, and I tried to herd them away, but they kept charging after me, and there were so _many_ …”

“Did they attack the human settlement?”

Castiel shook his head, already calming down. That was another downside to Raphael’s choir, Gabriel felt. Raphael discouraged emotional displays from his angels. He felt emotions weakened the angels who showed them and distracted those who didn’t. Gabriel felt the suppression of emotions was what weakened the angels. Castiel was scared and hurting, and he had every right to be angry at being thrown into an impossible scenario. Forcing those emotions down didn’t remove their effects, and Castiel would likely suffer silently until he could work through his fear and pain. Gabriel re-resolved to get Castiel away from Raphael as soon as he could.

“The unicorns did hurt you, though.” Gabriel ran his hands soothingly over Castiel’s grace, finding another hole to fill in with his own. “What happened to them?”

“Some of your angels turned up,” Castiel admitted, looking down at the feather he held in his hands. “They drove off the unicorns, and the Dominion lectured me on interfering where I shouldn’t. But I had been assigned!”

“Yes, yes, it’s okay. I’ll speak with…” Which Dominion ruled over the unicorns? That would be… Jeremiah, unless Zachariah had rearranged things again. “With Jeremiah, explain things to him. I’m just glad you’re still alive.”

Castiel turned his face up to Gabriel, his bright blue eyes searching the Archangel’s for the truth. Gabriel just stroked his wings against Castiel’s and cloaked the younger angel in his grace. “Unicorns can be deadly. Even _I_ would hesitate to face the herd alone. You were very brave to have done so until my angels could help.” And very stupid, but Gabriel didn’t add that bit. Angels were supposed to follow the orders of their superiors, and Raphael certainly didn’t encourage lateral thinking. Castiel’s only crime was not questioning authority.

“I did something bad,” Castiel whispered, his whole body giving a shiver. “I _really_ messed up, before Jeremiah and his Angels came.” The little angel suddenly thrust Gabriel’s feather up between them, offering it back to his older brother. “I thought… you had given me this, and if I could find you, I could give it back so you would help me, and I figured you maybe were on a beach, because that’s where you were the first time, and please, please help me, I don’t want Raphael to get mad at me, he’s going to be so mad at me, please!”

“Castiel!” Gabriel pressed his hand over his brother’s, forcing him to lower the feather. “I gave you that feather as a _gift_ , not as a way to extort a favor from me. Keep it.” Castiel’s grace immediately dimmed, and Gabriel quickly gathered the Angel close again. “Shh, Castiel, that doesn’t mean I won’t help you. You are my little brother, and you can _always_ turn to me for help… especially if it will make Raphael mad. Now tell me, how did you mess up?”

“I…” Castiel hugged Gabriel’s feather against his chest, curling in on himself. “I killed them…”

“Killed who?” Gabriel asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible and not spike with fear. “Jeremiah? His Angels?”

“No!” Castiel’s head whipped back and forth in a fervent denial. “No, some of the unicorns!”

“ _Oh_.” Though the unicorns were endangered, Gabriel hadn’t noticed any signs that God’s wrath would come down on anyone who killed them. If Castiel had killed a brother, Gabriel would have had to… well, he wasn’t sure _what_ he’d have to do if Castiel had managed to kill another angel. No angel had ever drawn a weapon on a brother before. Naomi and Alastair probably wrote it in their code of conduct somewhere. “Killing the unicorns is okay, Castiel. Better than killing angels or humans.”

“I killed a pregnant one,” Castiel whispered. “It was charging me. I killed its baby with my sword. And then the big male ran at me, and I…”

“Did you kill the male?” Gabriel asked. If Castiel had, then Jeremiah would have to protect the mare with the male baby to make sure the whole herd didn’t go extinct.

Castiel shrugged. “I ducked, and another unicorn rammed it, and… _I_ didn’t kill it, but it still died, and…” The little angel shivered and curled up again.

“It’s okay, Castiel,” Gabriel said, rocking his brother gently in his arms. “It’s okay. A couple unicorns died, but no angels and no humans. You did well.”

“Raphael said I had to be careful. He said I shouldn’t hurt them, that there were only a couple left. He said I had to get them away from the humans without hurting _any_ unicorn.”

Gabriel waved his hand dismissively. “Castiel, unicorns are an Earthly concern. _My_ concern. If I say that no permanent damage was done to the herd, Raphael can’t get mad at you for it. He can get mad at _me_ , but not at you.”

“Jeremiah said both males were killed.”

Gabriel looked down at the young angel tucked against his chest. “ _Both_ males?” Castiel nodded meekly. Gabriel closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. _Oh Castiel…_ With both males dead, the unicorns would eventually go extinct. The suicide mission Raphael had sent Castiel on had wound up killing the wrong creatures. And it had been a suicide mission. Gabriel had no doubts there. Castiel’s mishaps gummed up the cogs in the well-oiled machine Raphael wanted to turn his angels into. If Gabriel knew his twin (and he did), Castiel’s existence was a blight on Raphael’s choir. Raphael was far too proud to give Castiel over to Gabriel, though, so sending him to his death was the only possible way to get rid of him.

And Castiel went and screwed up even getting himself killed.

Gabriel couldn’t help the chuckle that was bubbling up within him. He dropped his hand from his face to hug Castiel again, laughing unrestrainedly as he fell back against the sand, his wings shifting through the fine black grains. “Only you, Castiel, _only you_!”

“Are… are _you_ mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Gabriel assured Castiel, cradling the younger angel against his chest as he closed his eyes again, soaking up the heat of the beach. “I’m _glad_. I’ve wanted to remove the unicorns as a threat entirely for _centuries_ , but I didn’t want to make such a huge movement. This way, they will all die out, unless Father intervenes, and this way, Father has time to intervene, if it were meant to be. So thank you, little brother. I will personally speak with Raphael on your behalf about this. I’ll make sure he doesn’t punish you at all.” Gabriel reached up to close his hand over Castiel’s, still clutching his feather. “You have my word on that.”


	8. Mesopotamia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mesopotamia. A great getaway locations for partners to relax together…or the scene of a horrific massacre. What happens when angels screw up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the longest chapters in the story, and it was also one of the harder ones for me to write.

### Mesopotamia

Humans were delicate, frail creatures. Their teeth and nails provided little natural defense. Their skin was thin and easily split. They were decent at running, but they were hardly the fastest predators around. They relied far too much on their eyes and hands, and they could not stand in the presence of unfiltered grace without liquefying.

Gabriel turned slowly, taking in the carnage around him. A large human village in Mesopotamia, once home to over one hundred humans, was absolutely silent. Scores of bodies lay around him, all of them sporting burnt-out eye sockets and blood still dripping from their ears, sprawled on the ground where they had fallen as they tried to flee. Sammael emerged from one of the small houses, shaking his head. “It’s gruesome in there. The children tried to hide. Didn’t work.”

“How many?”

“Six.” Sammael stepped gingerly around a dead mother and her infant to return to Gabriel’s side.

“And that makes one hundred thirty-nine. All of them. They’re all dead.”

“This can’t be overlooked.” Sammael folded his arms loosely over his chest as he turned to Gabriel. “We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” Gabriel snapped back, chagrin immediately flashing through his grace afterwards. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Sammael just shrugged and waved it off.

Father was _furious_. The entire Host could feel tendrils of His wrath seeping into their songs. The Archangels felt it more keenly, sharp spikes of anger jabbing into their minds. If they didn’t punish the angels responsible for this mess soon, He would.

“I don’t think you should be involved in the trial. You’re too close.”

Gabriel shook his head. “He’ll think I turned my back on him.”

“I’ll tell Michael to stay out of it too,” Sammael said.

“That leaves Raphael! He’ll demand death!”

“Gabriel.” Sammael set a cool hand on Gabriel’s arm, looking pointedly at him. “Raphael _and me_. I’ll make sure the trial is fair. If he’s found guilty, I’ll keep him alive.”

“You’ll overrule Raphael?” Gabriel gave Sammael a dark look. Sammael was higher-ranked than Raphael, officially, but the Archangels tried not to take advantage of their authority over each other. The only one they all consistently deferred to was Michael, as the oldest and Archangel of Heaven.

“I won’t have to. I’ll just ask him who has to deliver the killing blow. Who has to be the first angel to spill the blood of a brother?” Sammael took Gabriel’s other arm in his other hand, and then drew his younger brother into a gentle hug. “Not even Raphael would condemn another brother to that fate. Unless he is willing to draw his own sword, they’ll both survive this.”

“He tried to have Castiel put to death,” Gabriel warned Sammael, reminding him of the trial Raphael had called for after news of Castiel’s accident with the unicorns reached his ears. Quick thinking on Cariel’s part had managed to silence Raphael’s protests, and Castiel was now a member of Anael’s garrison, under Zachariah, in Gabriel’s own choir. He had to give up two of his best Angels, Hester and Ion, to his twin, but they were both strong in spirit and could fit in with Raphael’s humorless choir.

“And he did not succeed,” Sammael reminded Gabriel. “I don’t think he’s actually thought through the ramifications of a death sentence.”

Another pulse of their Father’s anger made both Archangels wince. Sammael drew back from Gabriel, massaging his head. “We should return, and get things started. The sooner we can appease Father, the better.”

Gabriel nodded, pressing the heel of his hand against the side of his head, as if that could banish the lingering pain. He stepped further back from Sammael so he could spread his wings fully before leaping into the air and jumping planes to Heaven.

Even before Gabriel landed at his tower, Cariel had flown into him, grabbing tightly to his arm, his grace wild and desperate. “It was an accident!”

“It was _devastating_ , accident or not,” Gabriel said, gingerly prying Cariel’s hands loose. He wrapped one wing around his Seraph before Cariel could take this as a rejection, keeping him close. “That was one of the larger human settlements, Cariel, and there wasn’t a single survivor. Sammael is preparing the others for a trial.”

Cariel gave a little nod, pressing one hand over the other fist and closing his eyes, trying to regain some composure. Gabriel could see as Cariel reined in the panic in his grace, replacing it with the calm neutrality that was an angel’s default appearance. “You’ll be there. You won’t let Raphael see me executed for this.”

“Cariel…” Gabriel flinched at Cariel’s utter faith in him, catching his Seraph’s face in one hand and turning the younger angel to look at him. “I… won’t be. Sammael doesn’t think it’s wise. I’m too invested in the outcome.”

“What does that mean?” Cariel demanded, another thread of fear blossoming out through his grace before being yanked back in.

“It means I’d probably do just about anything to skew the outcome in your favor, regardless of the facts of the matter,” Gabriel sighed. “And he has a point. I may try to be impartial, but I couldn’t be, not when it involves you.”

“Raphael hates me almost as much as he does you,” Cariel pointed out. “Ever since I helped manipulate Castiel into your choir. He will relish this chance to have power over me without your interference.”

“I know. And I already spoke with Sammael about this. He will be present too. He’s already promised me that he won’t allow Raphael to call for a death sentence.” Gabriel touched his forehead to Cariel’s, wrapping his grace around the Seraph. Cariel had always done everything Gabriel had asked of him, and so much more. He anticipated all of Gabriel’s needs, understood his moods, and spoke honestly with Gabriel instead of merely deferring to his superior status. Gabriel hated that he was helpless to step up and defend his Seraph when Cariel needed him most, but he knew Raphael would press for an even sterner punishment if he thought Gabriel was angling for a lenient one. “I can’t promise everything will be _fine_ , but Sammael has assured me that your trial will be fair, and he will ensure Raphael does not punish you out of spite for either one of us. I trust Sammael.”

Cariel closed his eyes, leaning into Gabriel’s embrace. “Will Michael be there?”

“Sammael is going to ask him to stay away, since Naomi is involved.”

“So I have to appeal to Sammael and Raphael. Excellent.” The sarcasm dripped from Cariel’s words.

“Be respectful,” Gabriel cautioned. “Especially in front of Raphael. Sammael may find your irreverence amusing, but Raphael will see it as an excuse to send you away for re-education. Do not lose your temper. Raphael will take any excuse to punish you. Follow the code of conduct to the letter, and pray.”

“Will Father accept their decision?” Cariel asked quietly, his wings drawing in tight against his back. “He is not happy right now…”

“If their verdict is fair, there is no reason why Father shouldn’t accept it.” Gabriel rubbed his hand along Cariel’s feathers and sighed. “I will pray for you, for His mercy and forgiveness. Have faith. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Cariel growled, swatting at Gabriel’s wings. “Don’t you give me that crap!”

Gabriel laughed weakly, lifting his wings out of Cariel’s reach. His Seraphim were revealing as much of a distaste for the obfuscating ways of God as Gabriel himself had. Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder if they were taking after him, or if this was a natural doubt held by angels that his felt safe admitting to in his presence. “Everything _does_ happen for a reason, Cariel. We may not know what that reason is, but I’m confident it exists.” It had to. Gabriel didn’t want to imagine a world where bad things didn’t have a point hidden somewhere in the depths of their darkness.

A flare in Gabriel’s mind caught his attention, and Gabriel lifted his gaze to the horizon, focusing on the grace. Sammael was calling to him. Gabriel brightened his own grace in reply, acknowledging Sammael’s wordless message.

“They are ready. I’ll take you before them, and I’ll wait for the trial to be over.”

Angels were frequently punished for minor misdemeanors, rarely anything large. No matter the degree of misconduct, all angelic trials took place in the Garden, which always became the Throne Room for them. Gabriel spread his wings and led the way, trusting Cariel to fly just behind him.

Michael was already at the Throne Room when Gabriel and Cariel arrived, casually leaning against the frame of the door, his arms folded and his grace largely neutral but with a slight disgruntled cast as he looked to the new arrivals. “Sammael, Raphael, and Naomi are already within. I’ve agreed to stay out of this.”

“As have I.” Gabriel turned to Cariel and touched their graces together one last time. “Be strong, Cariel. Behave. I’ll see you soon.”

Cariel nodded, his grace rather ashen, before he turned and stepped through the doors of the Throne Room, keeping his head and wings high. The Cherub Joshua slipped out and closed the doors with a heavy _boom_ that reverberated along the Axis Mundi. Almost immediately, the spikes of God’s anger shrunk within Gabriel’s head. His Father was still upset, but the constant headache had almost abated. Gabriel gave a sigh of relief, and noticed Michael had lifted his hand to rub the side of his head gingerly, his wings relaxing. Father was giving them a chance to make this right.

Joshua brightened at the two Archangels standing outside, touching his hand to the base of his throat and gesturing to them both in a salute. “Hello, brothers.”

Michael nodded his acknowledgement to the Cherub, while Gabriel returned the gesture. “Hello, Joshua. Are you usually here?”

Joshua glanced over at Michael, his choirmaster, before addressing Gabriel. “Yes, usually. I am a humble gardener, and it is my duty to oversee the Garden.”

“That must be a pleasant job,” Gabriel said. “Very… peaceful.” Very boring, actually, but the Cherubim liked mindless, repetitive jobs. It’s why they were so effective as support and assistants to the higher ranks.

“It is undeniably relaxing,” Joshua agreed. “Though, if I may speak frankly?”

“Always,” Gabriel answered earnestly, glancing up at the slight chuckle from Michael. His older brother said nothing, merely gave a shake of his head, his grace much brighter, more amused now. “With me, always.”

Joshua beamed up at the Archangel. “It doesn’t sound like you approve of a peaceful job.”

Michael _did_ laugh at that, and Gabriel had to join him. “Oh, well, there’s nothing _wrong_ with peace! I just…”

“You are the son of fire and change.” Joshua’s big eyes were far too knowledgeable for a Cherub. Gabriel wasn’t sure if he liked it. “You don’t like conflict, but stability bores you too. You like _different_.”

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed, grateful Joshua was able to sum up Gabriel’s feelings on the matter without making him sound destructive like Raphael always did. “I like doing something new each day; you’re absolutely right.”

“Is that why you’re so rarely in your tower?” Michael asked. “Do you find its consistency boring?”

“Mind-numbing,” Gabriel said with a nod. “Absolutely maddening.”

Michael laughed again, and Joshua bowed to both Archangels. “If you’ll excuse me, sirs, I’ll just carry on my business?”

“You’re dismissed.” Michael gestured lightly at Joshua, waving him away, his bright eyes focused on Gabriel. “So.”

“So,” Gabriel repeated, as Joshua spread his wings and flew out of earshot.

“Naomi and Cariel certainly made a mess of things. Honestly, they were the last two I’d have guessed would screw up this badly. Ever since you presented Anael’s garrison with Balthazar’s _partner_ , I was dreading the day I’d see them both standing before us.”

“Castiel means well.” Gabriel had to defend his newest Angel. “His heart is in the right place, and now that he’s away from Raphael, he’s not flinching as much as before. He can calm down, and when he’s calm, he’s much more angelic.”

“It’s not Castiel I was concerned about,” Michael said. “Balthazar easily holds the record for the most appearances before a tribunal. I’m simply saying, once he has his partner close at hand to corrupt…”

“Castiel is _terrified_ of disappointing me,” Gabriel admitted. “I don’t think we have to worry about Balthazar corrupting him for at least another three centuries.” Not for lack of trying, though. Like Castiel, Balthazar _meant_ well, but unlike Castiel, Balthazar tended to mean well for himself first, the choir second, and the Host third. He kept sticking his grace in places where it didn't belong, and he frequently “borrowed” the tools of other angels whenever they caught his interest. Gabriel suspected Sammael had a Cherub, or perhaps even an entire garrison, dedicated solely to relieving Balthazar of everything his quick fingers encountered.

“I give him one century,” Michael countered. “On the outside. You have a way with your angels, Gabriel. They _love_ you. Castiel will feel comfortable enough to test your limits soon.”

“Don’t yours love you?” Gabriel asked, his wings rising in curiosity as he cocked his head to the side. “I mean, I can understand Raphael’s being more afraid of him than adoring, but even _they_ are smitten when it comes to their choirmaster.”

Michael was shaking his head. “Our angels do love us, yes, but _your_ angels, Gabriel, yours go above and beyond simple love. Your angels would throw themselves in even _my_ way if I tried to hurt you.”

“They would not!” Gabriel protested, waving his hands in denial. Sure, his angels loved him, but didn’t every choir adore their choirmaster?

“Naomi overheard a pair of your Seraphim talking a few years back.” Michael curved his wings behind his head, creating a feathered pillow between him and the stone of the Throne Room. “She thought I should know that the first rule in your choir is: Protect Gabriel at all costs.”

“ _What_?” Gabriel shook his head fiercely. “Absolutely not! Rule one is to protect the Earth and all things on it, but especially the humans! There are no rules about protecting me!”

Even as he protested, Gabriel smothered a flame of pride within him. Did his angels really think that highly of him? He had always done everything he could to be the best choirmaster he could be, and he knew his temper could flare up at times, and he was certainly lax about most of his responsibilities, foisting more than their fair share off on his Seraphim and their garrisons, but they still loved him anyway?

“I didn't think that was a rule you knew about. It certainly didn't sound like something you'd insist on.”

“It's not. I'm not like that. Raphael, maybe, but…”

Michael lifted a hand, chuckling softly. “Peace, Gabriel. I'm not trying to tease you. I think it's admirable that you inspired such loyalty. Even here.” He gestured to the Throne Room doors. “Cariel came straight to you to confess, didn't he?”

Gabriel nodded slowly, and Michael let his hand drop. “Naomi didn't say anything until I asked her directly, and even then she first tried to explain it away as an Earthly matter that was best dealt with by your choir.”

“But it was an accident.” Gabriel leaned back against his own wings, studying the door as if he could see the four angels within. Gabriel had sent Cariel away to enjoy some time with his partner—with Naomi in Michael's choir, the two Seraphim didn't see each other as often as they deserved. Partners split between choirs weren't uncommon, and Gabriel, at least, tried to give his angels every chance to be with their most beloved sibling. Michael and Sammael frequently encouraged their angels to take time for their partners as well. Everyone in Heaven knew exactly how perfect the partnership between the two oldest Archangels was. It was no surprise that they supported similar relationships among their younger brothers.

Gabriel knew Cariel had planned to show Naomi his favorite places on Earth and spend the day with their graces entwined. Gabriel had even taken steps to withdraw some garrisons and reassign others, ensuring that the two could find some privacy if they so desired. He hadn't expected the pair to run afoul of a human civilization, nor had he expected to have a horror-stricken second slamming into him before the day was even half over, babbling hysterically about an accident and death.

The angels had already known most humans reacted poorly to their presence. They had never experienced it on such a broad scale.

“Why would Naomi lie about an accident?”

 _Maybe it wasn't an accident._ Michael's words were mental, transmitted through a brush of his grace against Gabriel's instead of spoken aloud for anyone else to overhear.

 _You think that she, that **they** intentionally attacked the humans?_ Gabriel was shaking his head before he even finished his reply. Cariel was utterly devoted to the Earth. He would never attack anything on it that did not first threaten him, and with how delicate humans were, angels tended to stay hidden and cloaked when they were near.

_I don't want to, but I have to consider every possibility. Did Cariel tell you what happened exactly?_

Gabriel shook his head again, more slowly this time as he tried to recall Cariel’s exact words. _He just said there had been an accident, and many humans were dead, that he and Naomi had 'encountered a village…'_ Cariel had known that village was there. The humans loved that mountain vista as much as Cariel. He wouldn't have just stumbled upon them accidentally… but maybe he and Naomi had been playing together and he lost track of how close they were. That was entirely possible. _Sammael and I confirmed that all the humans died from exposure to grace. Their… sensory organs exploded, or imploded, or just melted. Humans and angels don't mix very well._

 _A most unfortunate flaw._ Michael sounded distracted, clearly not overly concerned with the designs of their Father. _Do you believe Cariel could attack humans?_

 _Absolutely not._ Gabriel's answer was instantaneous and iced with a flare of disgust at the mere thought that his lieutenant’s integrity was being questioned. _Not unless they somehow managed to attack him first, which I'm sure they didn't. Is Naomi capable of such an act?_

Michael's silence said more than any words could, and when he finally turned his gaze to look at Gabriel instead of the door, his eyes were unsettled.

_I don't know._

When the Throne Room door finally opened again, Gabriel and Michael pulled away from the wall, straightening their wings and looking expectantly at the angel on the other side. Sammael nodded to both of them. “We've reached a possible verdict, but I don't think you'll agree to it. Raphael has agreed to listen to your input for the disciplines.”

“They were found guilty?”

Sammael caught Gabriel's eyes but said nothing, neither out loud nor privately between them. He just turned and strode through the room, toward the elevated thrones at the far end.

Highest of all was the Throne of God, gleaming white and oversized even for Michael, the largest angel. A matching throne, only slightly smaller, sat at its immediate right. No one knew who this Throne was for. A few angels occasionally joked it was for Eve, Mother of All, but Gabriel quickly put a stop to that talk whenever he heard it. Some blasphemy was too much even for him to allow.

In front of the two white thrones were four black ones with high backs. They faced away from the first thrones, toward the rest of the room, their polished surfaces reflecting all light. Gabriel knew from experience that the highly polished thrones also reflected grace; while seated with both wings and throne to serve as buffers between them and their unfiltered Father, the Archangels could endure His presence for extended lengths of time.

Michael's throne was to the right of God's throne, while Sammael's was to the left. Both were raised off the ground, but nowhere near as high as those of their Father's and his companion's. Raphael and Gabriel's thrones were just three steps off the ground, with Raphael seated at Michael's right and Gabriel at Sammael's left. The twins' thrones were further apart than their combined wingspan. While seated, the two would never be able to touch each other, even if they leaned toward each other.

Gabriel suspected this had been an intentional feature.

Raphael was currently seated in his throne right now, sitting straight and tall, as imperious and smug as ever. Gabriel fought the desire to slouch and drag his wings on the ground that always swelled up within him whenever he saw Raphael's impeccable stiffness. Naomi and Cariel were kneeling in front of the thrones, hands folded demurely in their laps, wings held low and tight against their backs. Sammael and Michael stepped between them to reach their thrones, while Gabriel went around Cariel to his. Raphael's sharp eyes were focused on him, but Gabriel still reached out with his grace, brushing over Cariel's as he passed. _I'm here, Cariel. You are not alone._

Cariel's fingers twitched at the contact, but he did not lift his head. Raphael's reaction was much more visible, his eyes narrowing, grace twisting around his spirit like it was caught by a sudden wind. Gabriel just looked innocently at his twin before turning and taking his seat.

Sammael remained standing in front of his throne until Michael was seated as well. “Naomi, Seraph, second class, of the choir of Michael, and Cariel, Seraph, first class, and Lieutenant to the Archangel of the choir of Gabriel, stand accused of the destruction of an entire village of humans. One hundred and thirty-nine human souls have been reaped as a direct result of their carelessness. We have found these Seraphim guilty of the misconduct attributed to them and order them to fully adhere to the discipline laid out as consequence.”

Guilty. Gabriel's fingers clenched around the arms of his throne as he looked to Cariel. His Seraph remained motionless on the floor of the Throne Room. But no… Sammael had accused them of the destruction of the village. Not the _intentional_ destruction. It may still have been an accident, though one nevertheless caused by the angels.

Sammael sat down, stretching out his wings. One brushed against Gabriel's, and the younger Archangel jumped, looking guiltily over at his older brother. Sammael dipped his head to the side apologetically. An innocent verdict would have been better for Cariel, but Gabriel couldn't have asked Sammael to twist the truth.

Raphael now stood, raising his wings. “The suggested punishment for these Seraphim is re-education. Both will be restored to their original mental states, as they were upon awakening. Any corruption from their current life experiences will be removed from their spirits.”

“No!”

For a moment, Gabriel wondered who had been so bold as to interrupt Raphael, but then he realized that _he_ was the Archangel on his feet, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, grace angrily smoldering around him. “No,” he repeated, striking blindly for words to back up his protest. “Absolutely not.” He was stalling for time. All eyes in the room were on him now. At his side, Sammael was radiating a smug amusement. He had known Gabriel would protest this punishment, the bastard!

Re-education was better than death, but only barely. The core of the angel was guaranteed to survive, but something less tangible, like an angel's personality, could emerge irrevocably changed. One of Sammael's Seraphim, Alastair, oversaw the education and re-education of wayward angels. Gabriel wasn't entirely sure what, exactly, it entailed, but he knew it could include the removal of memories or desires. If Cariel were re-educated, he would be returned as innocent as a fledgling. He might not remember any of his love for the Earth, or any of the time he spent at Gabriel's side. Their easy banter would certainly be replaced with the formalities all new angels exhibited toward their superiors, and Gabriel would have to break Cariel of prostrating himself at Gabriel's feet all over again. Gabriel didn't even want to imagine Cariel being so _mindless_. He loved Cariel _because_ of his mind, because of his clever insights and the dry humor that could make Gabriel laugh at the most inappropriate times. Cariel's encyclopedic knowledge of Gabriel's choir might be damaged from a reeducation as well, and how could Gabriel rely on his second if his second couldn't even remember _why_ Zachariah's garrisons hunted the monsters, or why Barachiel's angels sculpted the Earth.

That would be his explanation. Gabriel lifted his chin a little higher, turning a heated glare on Raphael. “Cariel is my _lieutenant_. The smooth running of my choir _hinges_ on his being present and fully capable of carrying out his duties. I cannot afford to have my second taken from me for Father only knows how long, to be returned in questionable condition. As this incident proves, Earth is still very fragile. The Host cannot afford to disrupt the choir responsible for its care!”

To his right, Gabriel could feel Sammael's smug amusement was shifting into smug pride. _Bastard!_ Sammael had brought Gabriel in here solely so Gabriel could protest because he knew Gabriel wouldn't let Cariel be re-educated!

Raphael gave a nod and confirmed Gabriel's suspicions. “Sammael claimed you would appeal our verdict if we settled on re-education. May I then propose reassignment? Naomi and Cariel will both be demoted to Seraphim, fifth class, and transferred into the choirs of Sammael and myself respectively. We shall each provide you and Michael with one of our Seraphim as a replacement.”

“How is that any better?” Gabriel demanded, his grace running cold at the thought of Cariel being in Raphael's choir, at Raphael's mercy and lack thereof. The demotion would be a blow to both Seraphim's prides, but the _transfer…_ Gabriel might be able to give Cariel time to spend with his partner, but he certainly couldn't take much time himself to spend with his favorite Seraph. Selfishly, he did not want to let Cariel go. “I would still lose my second, but with a reassignment, the loss would be permanent!”

“You'd be able to promote a replacement instead of waiting an indeterminate amount of time,” Raphael pointed out coolly. “Your choir will be fully functional again much more quickly.”

Gabriel was shaking his head from the moment Raphael mentioned a replacement. “You're not punishing Cariel with these suggestions. You're punishing _me_. I'm not on trial here.”

“Perhaps you should be.”

Michael and Sammael had been looking between the twins as they spoke, but now the two senior Archangels turned to each other, raising their wings almost defensively at Raphael's accusation. Gabriel growled under his breath, feeling fire licking along his wings. “ _Excuse me_?”

“Perhaps,” Raphael repeated, slowly and deliberately shaping every syllable, “you _should_ be.”

“Explain yourself, Raphael,” Sammael interjected calmly, not bothering to stand.

“This incident happened on Earth. Earth is, as Gabriel so thoughtfully pointed out, his domain. An entire village of humans was wiped out on Gabriel's watch. He did nothing to stop it. He is just as guilty as the Seraphim.”

Gabriel summoned a fireball into one hand, ready to hurl it at Raphael's self-confident face, but a stab of despair snapped him out of his rage. Cariel had thrown his grace forward, wrapping a thin tendril around Gabriel's ankle and begging him not to make this worse for himself. _Remember your own advice. Do not lose your temper!_ The Seraph hadn't shifted his position, but his entire being was radiating distress at the thought that his own actions were somehow a failure of Gabriel's.

Gabriel's fire bled away as he looked at his upset lieutenant. If he attacked Raphael, attacked him _here_ , in God's own Throne Room, Gabriel would be looking at a lot more than a re-education or reassignment. Father Himself might come down in person to deliver the punishment, and Gabriel did not relish a second dose of his Father's wrath. He squeezed his fists tighter before forcing both open, loosening his stance. “If I'm responsible for this attack, what about you, Raphael? Isn't it your job to protect Heaven and its greatest treasures? Isn't humanity one of Heaven's greatest treasures? If _I_ should have stopped this attack, surely _you_ are just as much to blame.”

A trickle of pleasure brushed Gabriel from where Cariel's grace still wrapped around his ankle, but the Seraph quickly released him and withdrew his grace. Gabriel fluffed his wings up a little, glad he could lift Cariel's spirits even as his words wiped the smugness from Raphael's grace.

“Enough.” Sammael lifted his hand, turning an exasperated look on each of the twins in turn. “We already established that this incident happened too quickly for any other angels to make a difference in the outcome, Raphael. Neither you nor Gabriel could have prevented the deaths. As Gabriel _was_ the first responder to the disaster, no case can be made that he was in some way neglectful of his duties as caretaker of Earth. But he does have a point. All of the suggested punishments thus far are more crippling to Gabriel and his choir, or to Michael and his, than they are to Cariel and Naomi, the two actually responsible.”

“Then what would you suggest?” Raphael hissed at his brothers. “Let them off with a warning? Over one hundred humans are _dead_ because of them!”

“If I may?” Cariel’s quiet voice cut through the Throne Room, though he had not even lifted his head. He waited until all four Archangels were looking at him before glancing up. Instead of seeking out Gabriel, his dark eyes focused on Michael. “We could be grounded.”

“Grounded?” Gabriel asked, glancing over to Cariel as he sank back into his throne. He had never heard of grounding before, not in relation to angels.

“Our flight feathers get clipped.” Cariel’s voice was carefully neutral as he looked from Michael to Raphael, then to Sammael, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes. “Neither of us would be able to fly until our feathers regrow. We would be confined to Heaven and to the surface. Our movements will be slowed and our access limited. It will take time for our feathers to regrow, perhaps even years. After we are whole again—naturally—this case can be revisited and our punishments reevaluated. If we have proven suitably repentant, our restrictions can be lifted. If not, our feathers can be clipped again.” He glanced over at Michael again. “Such a punishment would not affect the smooth running of either choir. It punishes us more than you or Gabriel. It _does_ punish us.”

This concept of “grounding” sickened Gabriel. The mere thought of losing his ability to fly made him draw his wings against his back protectively. Even if it was only temporary, it was a horrific punishment, and he couldn’t believe Cariel was actually _suggesting_ such a maiming. Gabriel’s fingers clenched against the arms of his throne again as he fought down another wave of fire.

And yet… and yet grounding wouldn't destroy Cariel's spirit. He would remain Gabriel's second, his trusted lieutenant, his good friend. Cariel couldn't attend to matters on Earth, but he could help manage the choir from Gabriel's tower easily enough. He would survive the punishment and remain at Gabriel's side, and really, Gabriel couldn't ask for anything more.

“Gabriel?” Michael glanced over at the younger Archangel, leaning around Sammael to catch his brother’s gaze. “Is this satisfactory?”

Gabriel forced himself to release his throne and gave a nod to Michael. “Grounding is an,” the words were difficult to push out; Gabriel was _condemning_ Cariel to mutilation, “acceptable punishment.”

“Sammael? Raphael?” Michael looked between his brothers. “Do you accept this suggestion?”

Raphael nodded, his own wings tucked in tight against his body. Sammael was far more relaxed in his throne, confident that no one would ever try to ground _him_ as he nodded his consent and rose to his feet.

“Naomi, Cariel, your fates have been decided. You will report to Raphael’s healers before sunset for your punishment. Your right to visit Earth has been revoked until further notice.” Sammael paused, looking around the room before giving a firm nod. “This trial is dismissed.”

Sammael waited for Michael to rise and reach his side before the pair exited the Throne Room together. Raphael didn’t bother waiting for Gabriel, his long strides carrying him toward the doors. Gabriel gave Cariel one last look before heading out himself, immediately turning to wait for his Seraph.

Cariel was the last one out of the room, though Michael returned and slipped back inside without a word to any of them. As the door swung shut behind his oldest brother, Gabriel turned to Cariel, grabbing his arm. “Just tell me it wasn’t intentional,” he hissed.

“It was intentional,” Cariel whispered back, looking down at the Archangel. Gabriel sometimes hated that his Lieutenant was one of the few Seraphim taller than him. Not often, but sometimes, it made it hard to be in charge. “If I let Raphael pick the punishment, he’d insist on removing me from your choir!”

“Not _that_.” Gabriel waved Cariel’s comment away. “The massacre. Tell me you didn’t hunt those humans down.”

Cariel’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Of course it wasn’t intentional! I already told you that. It wasn’t even _accidentally_ my fault. Naomi unveiled herself and killed those humans. I just tried to help clean up the mess.”

“Did _she_ do it intentionally?”

“No!” Cariel flapped his wings, a gesture usually meant to exaggerate an angel’s size and intimidate smaller creatures. “How could you think that of us? Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?”

Now it was Gabriel’s turn to glare, stretching his own wings to remind Cariel that he may be shorter, but he was still the bigger angel. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Michael and I were concerned with the circumstances around this whole situation. You _were_ found guilty-”

“ _Raphael_ found me guilty. I didn’t actually-”

Gabriel slashed a hand through the air to cut off his lieutenant’s protest. “Cariel, the trial is _over_. Your punishment has been decided. It was your own suggestion, and I—Ah!” Gabriel cut off with a wince, staggering a little as he pressed his palm to his head. This was a different sort of headache, a direct summons from God. Usually, they weren’t so _loud_ , but usually, Gabriel supposed, he wasn’t standing right outside the door when they came. “Cariel, I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Don’t-”

“ _I have to go._ “ Gabriel reached out, squeezed Cariel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cariel. I am. We’ll talk about this when I’m through with Father. Wait in my office for my return.”

The Throne Room doors opened, and Michael emerged. He looked between Gabriel and Cariel for a moment before jerking his head back over his shoulder. “Father wants to speak with you now, Gabriel.”

“I got the message.” Gabriel gave Cariel one last look before slipping back into the Throne Room.

The cavernous room was no longer as empty and echoing as it had been during the trial. Every last corner was filled with a celestial glow, and a pillar of blue flame filled the massive throne of God at the far end. Gabriel ducked his head respectfully as he warily approached the throne, dipping into a low bow when he arrived at his Father’s feet. His wings were all outstretched, except the smallest pair, which he drew over his head to shield him from God’s direct presence. “Father.”

_Gabriel._

Some of the tension left Gabriel’s wings. His Father’s mood was always obvious in how He spoke His sons’ names. Gabriel’s name wrapped around him like a heavy arm across his shoulders, neither angry nor particularly soothing, but a definitive guiding force. “Did the outcome of the trial please you, Father?”

_Perhaps._

Perhaps? What did He mean by that? Gabriel waited for elaboration, fighting to keep the twitch out of his wings.

God eventually took pity on Gabriel and spoke again. _If I asked it of you, would you kill Cariel?_

The sudden paralysis that seized Gabriel was the only thing that kept him from flinching, or from saying something utterly stupid. He stared at the floor in front of him, his fire frozen within him. _Kill_ Cariel!? Was that what God wanted as punishment for the two Seraphim? He had called Michael in before Gabriel—was that to give him an order to kill Naomi?

God was waiting, eternally patient, but His presence was a pressing weight on Gabriel’s back. The angel’s eyes fluttered closed as he found the strength to move again. “I… Father… that is, You already know all. You know my answer.” His hands were trembling, and he clenched them into fists in an attempt to still them.

_I do. Do you?_

“Do I?”

 _Know your answer?_ The pressure on Gabriel’s back increased, and he sagged forward, catching himself on his hands.

“I…”

_Answer Me, Gabriel. Tell Me what you would do if I ordered you to kill Cariel._

Gabriel tried to imagine it: Cariel, waiting for his return at the tower. His punishment had already been decided. He wouldn’t be expecting anything more. Gabriel would enter, keeping his grace neutral so as not to alert Cariel to anything wrong. Cariel would turn to him, his dark eyes still angry, but softer than they were just minutes ago. Time was already serving to calm him down. Cariel never stayed mad at Gabriel for long. It would be easy to step up to Cariel, to get close enough to the younger angel. He’d draw his sword and…

And…

And he’d grab Cariel’s arm, desperate, and fly. They’d run, to the far corners of the universe, where even God’s presence was weak. Slip into the Borderlands. Seek out a new universe, where God’s power could not reach. Gabriel would abandon his choir, his family, to save his brother.

Gabriel shook his head. “I wouldn’t,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t do it.”

_There is no place I am not._

“I don’t care. I’d run anyway.” Gabriel curled his fingers against the cool stone floor. “There are places where You aren’t as strong. Shadows to hide in. I’d take him to the far planets, to the Borderlands. We’d find a way into another universe. I would die before I let him be killed for this.”

God’s silence was deafening, weighing Gabriel down, pressing him against the floor. A sob tore itself from Gabriel’s throat as he felt the stone brush his face. He would die, smote here on the floor of the Throne Room, before Cariel had a chance to be warned. Gabriel closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if he was apologizing to his Father, for directly countering an order, or to Cariel, for not shielding him from this, or to his choir and his brothers, for abandoning them. He would not change his decision.

The pressure was suddenly gone, and Gabriel nearly collapsed from its absence. He lifted his head, catching himself just in time before looking directly at his Father. He cowered back, covering himself with more of his wings. “Father?”

_I am not asking you to kill Cariel. I am satisfied with the results._

… _not_? That had been a _test_? Sometimes, Gabriel _really_ hat-

He bit that thought off before it could finish forming, thinking instead of butterflies on the wind. Father was frequently lenient, but surely not here, not in His Throne Room, not in His presence.

Had he passed the test? He must have, if God was allowing the verdict to stand unchanged.

_I have a message for you to deliver, for the entire Host. No angel may be on Earth for more than twenty-four consecutive hours without taking a vessel._

“A-a vessel?” Gabriel didn’t even bother trying to push himself off the floor. He could pick himself up once his Father had left the room.

_Humans and angels **are** designed to work together. Angels may enter vessels to filter their grace and allow them to interact with humans without harm._

“How-?”

God’s grace departed the Throne Room before Gabriel could finish his next question. The Archangel sagged in the emptiness, pressing his forehead against the floor. Never before had he been so grateful to be abruptly dismissed from his Father’s presence.

Gabriel took his time returning to his tower. He had an excuse, flying throughout Heaven to alert all of the Seraphim and Raphael to the new rule about vessels on Earth. The Seraphim could inform their Dominions, who would alert their garrisons. Neither Michael nor Sammael were at their towers. Filiel, Michael’s second, and Azazel, Sammael’s second, both reported that their Archangels had not returned from the trial yet.

Michael and Sammael weren’t on Earth, either. Gabriel took a detour to the planet so he could tell his own choir about the change. His angels were understandably flustered; Father hadn’t given them any instructions on _how_ to take a vessel, so they had only twenty-four hours to figure it out.

Gabriel couldn’t hold off facing Cariel forever. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, though there was still time before sunset. Setting aside his need to alert Michael and Sammael for now, Gabriel reluctantly returned to his tower. As soon as he landed, he could feel Michael and Sammael’s grace within. They had been here the whole time, waiting for him.

Flicking back his wings, Gabriel pushed his office doors open and stepped inside. Sammael had made himself at home behind Gabriel’s desk, idly flipping through some of the mess of papers Gabriel usually had strewn about. Michael stood at a window, his arms folded, wings drawn up, his grace heavy and brooding around him. Cariel waited near the door, twitching with every flip of a page from Sammael. Gabriel knew his Seraph was itching to kick Sammael out for messing up Gabriel’s poor excuse for an organizational system—it had taken Cariel the better part of a decade to convince Gabriel to straighten things up at least that much, so Cariel had some hope of finding needed information.

The flicker of amusement at the thought was quickly doused by the icy realization of how close Cariel had come to being killed. _Had come_? What if that was why Michael and Sammael were here? What if they were supposed to fulfill a death sentence in the face of Gabriel’s failure to?

“Cariel, come here,” Gabriel ordered, beckoning his Seraph close. Sammael cocked his head to the side curiously as Gabriel slid in front of the younger angel, physically placing himself between Cariel and his oldest brothers. “Sammael, Michael, what brings you here?”

Sammael looked over at Michael, who turned away from the window. “I wanted to see how you were, after your meeting with Father,” the oldest angel said.

 _Wanted to see if I would kill Cariel or if you had to?_ Gabriel wondered. “I’m… it was a message. He had me deliver a message for Him.”

“Is that all?” Michael stepped toward Gabriel, and Gabriel stepped back, into Cariel, who stumbled a few steps back himself. The oldest angel stopped, his head dipping to the side as he studied Gabriel. Sudden awareness filled his eyes, and Michael lifted his hands in supplication. “Gabriel, it’s okay. I’m not here to kill anyone.”

“ _What_?” Sammael demanded, leaping to his feet. “How could you think that of Michael, Gabriel!?”

“I…” Gabriel looked between the two Archangels nervously.

“Peace, Light Bringer,” Michael said, gesturing to Sammael to sit down again. “It’s what Father asked of us, isn’t it, Gabriel. He asked me if I would kill Naomi.”

Gabriel gave a little nod, not ready to relax yet. “He… He asked if I would kill Cariel.”

“ _What_?” Now it was Cariel’s turn to cry out, stepping away from Gabriel, his wings lifted high and tight.

Michael gestured Cariel down as well, shaking his head. “Father did not ask us to. He simply asked if we _would_.”

“And I said I wouldn’t.” Gabriel turned to face Cariel fully, praying for his Seraph to believe him. “Cariel, I told Him that if He asked if of me… I told Him… to His… I said…”

The words failed him as Gabriel’s knees gave out. He stumbled, grabbing onto his desk for support. He had told his Father, to His _face_ , that he would disobey a direct order. _He’s going to smite me!_

“Gabriel!” Two pairs of strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him on his feet. Michael and Sammael pressed in close, wrapping their grace around their little brother. Cariel hung back, one hand raised as if he changed his mind halfway through reaching out to Gabriel.

“It’s okay, Gabriel,” Michael soothed, stroking his hand along Gabriel’s wings. “It’s okay, Little One. Father tested us both, but He would not ask that of us. You endured the test, and you passed it. It’s okay. Father does not hold grudges.”

“I said I’d take Cariel and run,” Gabriel whispered into Michael’s chest. “I said I’d sooner die than watch him be killed.”

Cariel took a step closer, his wings hanging limp, but Sammael turned a glare on the Seraph and pinned him in place. Gabriel shook his head, covering his face.

“Is that what you said too?” Sammael asked Michael, looking up at his partner.

Michael hesitated before slowly shaking his head. “I told Father that if He asked it of me, I would do it.”

Sammael’s arms fell away from Gabriel as he stared at his brother. “You would kill your own Seraph?”

“If Father required it of me, yes.” Michael met Sammael’s gaze evenly. “I am a good son, Sammael. I do as my Father commands.”

“Would you kill _me_?” Sammael spread his arms, stepping back from Michael. “If Father asked you to, would you kill me?”

“ _Sammael._ “ Michael managed to speak his brother’s name with so much loving chastisement that Sammael immediately backed down. It was ridiculous, really, to think that Michael could have turned his sword on Sammael, the one angel he loved and cherished above all others. Gabriel could see Michael executing a Seraph for disobedience, but not Sammael. Never Sammael.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Sammael murmured, sliding back in to hug him around Gabriel. “I shouldn’t doubt you.”

“So,” Cariel’s voice was hesitant as he spoke up in front of the three Archangels, “am I going to be killed?”

“No,” Gabriel answered, drawing away from his brothers so he could turn to Cariel. He took his Seraph’s hand between his and shook his head. “Absolutely not. Father said He is satisfied with the outcome of the trial. And He made a new edict—no angel may be on Earth for more than twenty-four consecutive hours without a vessel to protect humans from our grace.”

Cariel fell against Gabriel’s chest, curling his taller form into the Archangel’s grace. Gabriel hugged Cariel and rested his cheek against his Seraph’s head. “It’s all right,” he whispered, petting Cariel’s wings like Michael had just stroked his. “I won’t let you die for an accident. I promised you.”

“It makes sense now,” Michael murmured to Sammael, but Gabriel heard and looked over in time to see Sammael nodding.

“What does?”

“Remember what we spoke of during the trial?” Michael asked. “How your angels would throw themselves to their deaths for you?”

“I remember you exaggerating,” Gabriel said, looking back to Cariel.

“Was I?” Michael asked. “Cariel, if I were to attack Gabriel right now, would you try to stop me?”

“Of course,” Cariel answered, without any pause.

Michael shrugged. “Clearly, Cariel doesn’t want to be killed today, but if he got in my way, he’d die. For you.”

“Any angel would do that for their superior,” Gabriel protested, but even as he spoke he could see the denial in Cariel’s eyes.

“Your choir is unique, Gabriel,” Sammael said. “We’ve been trying to figure out your secret for centuries, but I think you’ve just shown us.”

“I don’t have any secret to choir management,” Gabriel argued.

“You said no to Father,” Michael said. “To His face. To save just one of your choir.”

“Because Cariel is mine! I have a responsibility to him, to protect him, not to slay him!” Gabriel tightened his arms around Cariel, feeling the Seraph relax into his embrace. Cariel _trusted_ him. Even after the guilty verdict, Cariel still had faith that Gabriel would protect him.

“So do I,” Michael said. “And yet, even I would bow before the superior will of our Father.”

“Well, I…” Gabriel had no rebuttal for that. It was true, after all. He did put his choir above even God.

“Our little brother seldom does what is expected of him,” Sammael said, reaching out to take Michael’s arm. “Come on, Michael. I think Gabriel’s choir has been stressed enough for one day. Let’s return to our own.”

Michael nodded, stepping back and unfurling his wings. In the next blink, he and Sammael were both gone.

Gabriel felt the last dregs of tension drip from his wings at their absence. He hadn’t even realized the tautness that had overtaken him by the presence of his brothers. Usually, Michael and Sammael being near did nothing but relax him, as between them, they could fix any problem. Was this what it meant to grow up? Having to tackle situations that Michael and Sammael couldn’t help?

“Cariel?” Gabriel released his Seraph, stepping back to look at the younger angel. “Are you okay?”

Cariel shook out his wings and straightened up, offering Gabriel an uncertain shrug. “I still need to get my wings trimmed and was very nearly sentenced to death by Father today, but all in all, could be worse.”

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel pressed his hand to his head, turning toward his desk. “Today has just been…”

“I started it,” Cariel pointed out. “No, _Naomi_ started it. I just took the fall for her. See if I ever do that again.”

“You said that earlier,” Gabriel looked back at Cariel. “That it was Naomi’s fault. Why did Sammael agree that you were guilty if you didn’t do anything wrong?”

Cariel shifted guiltily. “I… covered things up for her. Before coming to you. Set it up so it didn’t look as bad for her and worse for me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“She’s my _partner_ ,” Cariel said, as if that explained everything. It probably would have, Gabriel thought, if Gabriel knew what it felt like to have a partner you actually cared about. “Naomi is… she’s my other half, and we didn’t know how Michael would take the news. I knew you’d forgive me, so I figured if it looked to be mostly my fault, you’d smack me on the hand and we’d be fine. I didn’t expect you to not participate in the trial!”

“You were protecting her,” Gabriel said. “Even at the trial, you were trying to defend your partner.”

“Not so much then,” Cariel muttered, slanting his eyes downward. “I figured full honesty would be best in the face of Sammael and Raphael.”

“And they still found you guilty?”

“Naomi didn’t believe full honesty was better.” Cariel’s grace rippled darkly as he looked back to Gabriel. “She figured since we made the scene look like it was my fault, might as well stick with that. She did everything she could to pin the whole incident fully on me.”

“But you’re her partner.” Gabriel cocked his head to the side, watching Cariel. “Why would she do that to you?”

“She saw a way out without getting in trouble herself?” Cariel shrugged. “I think Sammael saw through her bullshit, but since the physical evidence all pointed to me and Naomi’s testimony corroborated it…”

“He had to punish you,” Gabriel finished. “But Naomi was given the same punishment.”

“ _That_ was Sammael’s doing. Raphael wanted to let her off, but Sammael pointed out that she was present and didn’t prevent it, so she should take a full punishment as if she had caused it. And vice versa—I was there, didn’t stop things, deserve a punishment.”

“Did you try to save them?” Gabriel asked quietly.

Cariel nodded. “If we had only taken a moment to _strategize_ instead of charging ahead with swords drawn, we could have saved them all. _Naomi_ didn’t want to waste precious time.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “I didn’t want to agree to your punishment. Grounding you is… you don’t deserve that.”

“No, you were right to.” Cariel’s wings slumped in defeat. “At least I’m not being re-educated or reassigned. I _did_ suggest the grounding. I know I can live with it.”

“Grounding is temporary,” Gabriel said, reaching out to stroke Cariel’s wings, the delicate feathers that would soon be cut away. “You’ll be flying again before too long, and I’ll vouch for your return to Earth.”

“What if Raphael tries to permanently maim me?” Cariel asked quietly, leaning into Gabriel’s touch. “I didn’t expect Michael to have _him_ do the cutting.”

“Then I’ll _make_ him heal you,” Gabriel answered fiercely. “If he tries to do _anything_ more to you than just cut your feathers, he’ll have me to deal with.”

“I love it when you get all fiery.”

“Shut up,” Gabriel groused, though he wrapped his arm around Cariel’s back. “Come on. I’ll fly with you to Raphael, and I’ll glare at him the whole time so he knows not to try anything.”

“Can we take the scenic route?”

“Absolutely.”

 


	9. Sammael's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the Archangels were young once. Sammael helps his Father create the third angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of the Interlude chapters, little flashbacks to when the Archangels were kids. In this Interlude, Sammael is approximately young-teenage, and Michael is old-teenage to early-twenties in terms of development. There are going to be five of these Interludes by the end of the story, one for each Archangel and one which Michael and Sammael share. In chronological order, this is the third Interlude.

### Sammael's Interlude

When Sammael awoke, he had been a tiny thing, with pudgy, clumsy fingers and hundreds of little wings that altogether added up to _maybe_ one of Michael’s. His brother had towered over him, a giant in the darkness of the Void, and his Father had been unfathomably massive.

Sammael had grown from those early days. Michael was still bigger, but Sammael was over three quarters of his height now. He was what Michael called “in-between,” definitely not a baby anymore, but not yet caught up to Michael who was broad-shouldered and solid, the very picture of power and grace.

In contrast, Sammael was a weedy little thing, with too-large wings and too-thin limbs, still occasionally getting tangled up in his feathers or falling head over halo if he tried to stop too fast. Nevertheless, he _was_ older now, and Michael even pretended to let him explore on his own. He said he stayed behind, but Sammael wasn’t an idiot. He could always sense his brother’s presence, even if Michael veiled his grace and hid from sight. Michael was overprotective sometimes. It wasn’t like there was any true danger in the Void. It was, by definition, a _void_ , endless miles of _nothing_.

That wasn’t entirely fair. Scattered throughout the Void were bits and pieces of Father’s creations, and somewhere was Father’s core, His concentrated essence.

That was where Sammael was headed today, with Michael silently following just at the edge of his perception. Sammael ignored his brother and pushed his wings harder, laughing when he saw a twinkle of light in the distance.

“Father!”

God turned to catch Sammael as the young angel careened into Him, wings flapping in a desperate bid to check his crash. Sammael managed to melt his collision into a hug, flinging his arms around his Father’s being and nuzzling in close. Father filled his heart with so much joy and love, Sammael thought it might burst out of his chest. Michael was scared of Father, but Sammael knew He would never hurt him. “I found you!”

_Hello Sammael, My son._

Sammael wriggled in ecstasy as Father spoke his name, his spirit singing happily into the bleakness of the Void. His Father endured his embrace for an eon before releasing him.

_What do you think?_

Sammael fluttered behind God, out of His way, but leaned over His shoulder to see what He was working on now. A dormant fledgling huddled before them, tiny wings wrapped around a fragile spirit. Sammael marveled at the perfection encased in such a miniature form.

“Surely _I_ was never that small!”

 _Smaller._ Father’s voice was rich and sonorous, as if He was sharing a private joke with Sammael. _He is your little brother, Ragariel. He will be My greatest angel, perfection itself._

Sammael looked sharply at his new brother— _Ragariel_ —a sharp wave of bitter emotion prickling at his wings. “Greatest? Why is _he_ the greatest? What makes _him_ so perfect?” How could Ragariel be an improvement over Sammael himself, created to be the perfect companion?

 _He embodies all the best of those who came before,_ God answered. _He has a greater capacity for love than even you. He will be stronger than even Michael. He will grow to protect you both, to guide you, to shelter you._

Sammael didn’t like the sound of his little brother already. In his experience, little brothers were meant to look up to big brothers, not the other way around! “And you’ll make his partner just as perfect?”

_He will not have a partner. He is whole, complete, just as he is._

“Well, that won’t work!” Sammael shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. “Perfect or not, he’ll still get lonely!”

_He will have you and Michael._

“Not really, no. Me and Michael will have each other. _We’re_ partners. He’ll be separate from us. Different. Alone.”

_So you think I should make him a partner?_

Father sounded amused, like He wasn’t going to take Sammael seriously, but this _was_ serious. The only thing worse than having a perfect little brother would be to have _two_ of them! Sammael crossed his arms tighter. “No. Because his partner would have to be identical, or their partnership would be unbalanced. A partner is supposed to fill your holes, but he doesn’t have holes. So _his_ partner can’t have holes either. They’d both have to be perfect. Identical. And that’s just _wrong_. A partner should _complete_ you, not _be_ you. A partner should be _different_.”

 _Your point is valid, and your argument sound._ Father sounded pleased with Sammael’s interpretation of the situation. _How do you propose we fix this problem?_

Even though Father smiled like He already had a plan, Sammael puffed up with pride that he had identified a flaw and was being asked his opinion. “Split him in half,” he declared, pointing to the slumbering Ragariel. “A partnership _together_ should be perfect. Make him two angels who come together as perfection.”

God drew forth a sharp shard of His grace and offered it to Sammael. _Since this is your solution, would you like the honor?_

Sammael’s eyes widened as he wrapped both hands around the shard. He was wielding a tool of the Creator! He twisted to look back at Michael, forgetting to pretend his own partner wasn’t there. “Michael! Come see!”

Michael dropped his veil and flew toward the pair, ducking into a deep bow before God. “Father.” He was always so respectful and reverent of their Father. Sometimes it annoyed Sammael, like right now. _He_ was holding a tool of God, and Michael only had eyes for God Himself!

 _Your new brother, Ragariel,_ God said, sweeping Michael forward to see. _Sammael will make him two angels, twins._

Now Michael looked up at Sammael, pride in his eyes, his grace, his voice. “I’m sure Sammael will perform this task flawlessly.”

Sammael’s wings spread even further, loving how Michael so selflessly appreciated him. Michael was an even better angel than Sammael, as any decent big brother should be. He didn’t deserve to be overshadowed by perfect little Ragariel!

“Watch me, Michael! I’m going to make brothers for us!”

Sammael hefted the shard over his head (with only a little help from Father) and swung it down, aiming for the center of Ragariel’s tiny head. Sharp grace sliced easily into Ragariel’s unprotected spirit. The fledgling’s wings thrashed as if in pain, but his eyes remained closed and he remained utterly silent. Even as he split in half, he reformed into two smaller but entirely whole fledglings curled upon themselves. Their frantically beating wings stilled, wrapping around their forms again.

God drew His grace from Sammael and reached out to touch the fledglings. _You, celestial being, have been created to be an angel of the Lord. I name you._

The fledglings opened their eyes in unison and unfurled their wings properly, flailing in the emptiness. Michael darted forward to scoop the nearest into his arms, stroking those tiny wings to calm his panic. Sammael followed his lead with the other, feeling downy soft feathers beating desperately against his fingers.

God touched Michael’s fledgling. _Raphael._ Then He touched Sammael’s. _Gabriel._

Gabriel looked up at Sammael with clear eyes, his wings slowing but still twitching and stirring in the darkness. He stretched one fat little hand up and patted Sammael’s face before bursting into bright giggles that chimed across the Void. Sammael felt a rush of protectiveness toward this little brother, this angel _he_ helped create. He folded his wings around the fledgling and leaned in to nuzzle his head. “I’m Sammael,” he whispered. “I’m your big brother.”

“Brother!” Gabriel chirped back, flinging himself forward. He was trying to hug, Sammael belatedly realized, but his short arms couldn’t even wrap around Sammael’s neck.

Sammael closed his eyes and held Gabriel close to the core of his grace, feeling out his new brother’s undeveloped grace, exploring his strengths and weaknesses and noting the presence of flaws, gaping holes where his character had been sliced cleanly in two. Imperfect little Gabriel was already better than Ragariel. Sammael would protect this fledgling, guide him, teach him _everything_. “I will always love you,” he promised, already knowing it to be true.


	10. First Vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God was serious when he said you can’t be on Earth without a vessel. Gabriel needs to figure out what he meant by that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, everyone. I tried to put the last new chapter as 8.5, since it's not technically chapter 9, but apparently, AO3 doesn't like .5 chapters and decided I meant that meant it was chapter 8. It's chapter 9 now, so it's in the correct order. If you _didn't_ read the Interlude, go back and check it out! The Interludes are my favorite chapters, and I'd hate to think you guys missed the first because of my screw up!

### First Vessel

Twenty-four hours after God made His edict about angels on Earth needing vessels, a thunderous crack of displaced air shook Heaven’s foundations. Every last angel on Earth was back in the celestial plane, all at once.

Gabriel nearly fell out of the sky when three Cherubim materialized on top of him. He managed to twist and catch the much younger angels in his wings before they too plummeted to the ground below. Two angels slowly crashed into Cariel, unable to fly up fast enough to check their own fall. Michael and Sammael had been sparring together when a Seraph appeared between them, and the poor angel would have lost his head if he hadn’t promptly fallen on his back. Barachiel crashed onto Raphael’s desk, and it was only the Seraph’s good nature and fervent apologies that kept the Archangel from exploding into a rage at one of Gabriel’s choir.

When the angels settled, it was soon apparent what had happened. None of the angels on Earth had figured out how to take a vessel in the time limit God had provided, and no angel could return to Earth for at least twenty-four hours after being banished from it. God was taking this rule very seriously, enforcing it automatically instead of relying on the angels to police the planet for Him.

That had been three months ago. The angels were no closer to taking vessels than they were on the first day. Most of the angels had given up, figuring that twenty-four hours was more than enough time to do their duties, but Gabriel’s choir was seriously inconvenienced by this new rule. Even Barachiel, perhaps the most cheerful angel in existence, was showing signs of annoyance, and the less-pleasant angels like Zachariah were absolutely unbearable. Cariel was the only one of Gabriel’s angels who _didn’t_ mind the time limits, as he was still banned from visiting Earth at all.

Gabriel made Cariel deal with Zachariah.

Gabriel had tried praying for guidance, taking time whenever he had it to find some solitude and seek revelation. God had not answered. He had even visited the Garden, and while he had found Joshua, the Cherub had not been able to give any advice.

“There _has_ to be a way,” Gabriel muttered, stalking through some trees on Earth. He had felt drawn to this forest, but it wasn't helping him take a vessel. “Father wouldn’t have said we could if we actually _couldn’t_!” He scooped up a boulder and threw it in his frustration, wincing as it snapped a sapling. “Sorry,” he muttered, healing the baby tree with a wave of his hand.

“Sorry?”

Gabriel whirled about, finding himself staring down at a human. A very much _alive_ human, staring up at him with huge blue eyes that were neither melting nor burning. He swore violently in Enochian, cloaking his grace from the human’s perception before he seared those eyes from its skull.

The human blinked and frowned, reaching up to rub at his eyes. Gabriel was invisible to him now, but the human still acted like he was there. “Hello?” he called, waving his hands in front of him, trying to reach out to Gabriel.

“Please go away,” Gabriel grumbled, stepping back and drawing his wings in tight. “I’m trying to be upset.” He winced as he realized he said that out loud, a sure way to destroy a human’s eardrums.

This human showed no signs of pain. He swiveled his head from side to side, a look of concentration on his face. “I know you’re still here. I can hear you.”

That was not how a human was supposed to react. By all means, this man should have been huddled on the ground, screaming in agony and clutching at his eyes and ears, if he hadn’t already died from being in Gabriel’s presence. The angel cocked his head to the side and stepped closer to the human, his frustration gone for the moment. In its place was a fascinated curiosity.

Gabriel liked to consider himself a bit of an expert on humans. As far as the Archangels went, he knew the most. Some of his choir might know more, but even counting them his knowledge was extensive. This human, he could tell from a careful study, was a bit smaller than the average adult male. He was middle-aged, perhaps about twenty or twenty-five years old. Probably earlier than that—he had a bit of facial hair, but thin and sparse. New. It dusted his pale cheeks, which were covered in freckles. The man’s eyes were the same pale blue as the morning sky, set over a nose that turned up at the end and a wide, wide mouth. He had curly copper-colored hair that was tied back from his face with a strip of hide, and he was covered from his neck to his feet with similar animal skins. His hands were bare, with more of those freckles across the back. One was curled around a wooden bow. A stone knife hung from his belt, and stone-tipped arrows were in a quiver slung over his back.

All in all, he wasn’t that unusual of a human for this area. The hair color was a bit odd, but he was hardly the only red-headed human. His only truly defining feature was his complete lack of injury from Gabriel’s unfiltered grace.

“You can hear me?” Gabriel risked asking, keeping his voice a whisper just in case. The man cocked his head to the side and grinned.

“Knew you were still here. What _are_ you? Are you a god?”

“I… am a messenger.” God did not want the humans exposed to the story of Heaven yet. He felt they were still so young, so inexperienced. Angels had been instructed to keep their stories to themselves for now, to wait for His word before sharing His Word. “My name is Gabriel.”

“Gabriel,” the human repeated. Gabriel felt no stroke of power when the human spoke his name, unlike when his brothers did, but he did feel a thrill of selfish pleasure race along his wings. A _human_ knew his name! He was speaking with a human, the very first angel to ever do so! “I’m called Vindonnus.”

“Vindonnus.” Gabriel stepped even closer, shrinking his presence so he was closer in size to the human. He reached out, still invisible, and touched his hand to Vindonnus’ cheek. The human startled, stepping back.

“Was that you?”

“Yes. Did I scare you?”

“I can’t see you.” Vindonnus reached up, waving his hand through Gabriel’s arm unintentionally. The angel bit back a laugh at the gesture. “I saw you before. That light…”

“You saw the light?”

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt?” Gabriel leaned in close again, peering intently at those blue eyes. Vindonnus didn’t _appear_ injured. Gabriel couldn't sense any damage to this man's body.

The human shook his head. “It didn't hurt at all. Was it supposed to?”

“Yes, actually,” Gabriel stepped back, flexing his wings. “Every human who has ever seen the light of an… of a messenger has been blinded.”

“Not me,” Vindonnus said with a grin. “Does that make me special?”

“You have _no_ idea.” Gabriel cocked his head to the side, contemplating this human. “Vindonnus… may I try something?”

“You are the god-messenger,” Vindonnus said, as if that gave Gabriel permission.

“I'm going to show you the light again.” Gabriel brushed his fingers over Vindonnus' eyes. “If it starts to hurt, close your eyes _immediately_ and tell me. Do you understand?”

Vindonnus nodded. He flexed his fingers over the smooth wood of his bow and grinned vaguely in Gabriel's direction.

_Here goes nothing,_ Gabriel thought to himself, gingerly releasing his hold on his grace. As his presence unfurled, Vindonnus blinked in the brilliant glow, but the man did not close his eyes for long. His mouth dropped open, his bow dropped from his fingers, and his knees dropped to the ground.

“You are…!”

The man reached for Gabriel, and Gabriel reached back, unfurling his wings as his fingers brushed Vindonnus'. He wrapped his hand around the human's, hardening his grace so the human had something solid to touch, and Vindonnus suddenly gripped tight, squeezing. His hold was weaker than a new fledgling's, but Gabriel laughed in delight. He was _touching a human_! A man who was looking directly at him, speaking with him, sharing his presence without boiling or exploding. Was this what Father meant when He said humans and angels were meant to work together?

“You shine like the sun,” Vindonnus whispered, his voice as reverent as the awe in his eyes. “You burn like a fire. You are… you are… you are _magnificent_! And you say you are _not_ a god!?”

“I serve God. I do not presume to be Him.” Gabriel concentrated on dimming his grace without concealing it entirely. When Vindonnus stopped blinking so rapidly, Gabriel held himself in check. The man's reverence was slowly becoming supplanted by a curiosity Gabriel could empathize with. His blue eyes roved over Gabriel's form. What must he look like to this human, a being of light and celestial intent?

“What is on your back?” Vindonnus asked, pointing.

Gabriel twisted slightly to look, flexing his wings. “My wings?”

“You have _wings_? Like a bird? Can you fly?”

So many questions! Gabriel had to laugh again, gently tugging Vindonnus' hand to pull him to his feet again. He had to be very careful with this human. His strength was much greater than the human body could endure. “Yes, wings, like a bird. And yes, I _can_ fly, though I won't. Not here. Too many humans around. They might get hurt.”

“ _I'm_ not hurt.” Vindonnus stepped in close to Gabriel, watching the angel warily. He reached a hand toward Gabriel's wings but waited for Gabriel to nod approval before laying his fingers flat against Gabriel's largest left wing.

Gabriel shivered at the touch, his wing trembling as he felt a jolt of _something_. Like an electric spark, it leapt from Vindonnus' hand through his feathers, racing through his grace to fizz against his spirit below. “Wow,” he said, at the same time Vindonnus did, and then they both laughed and looked away.

“Is this… new for you too?” Vindonnus asked. “Meeting a human? You said you've blinded all the others?”

“Not me personally!” Gabriel was quick to reassure Vindonnus. “My brothers. But… yes. This is the first time I've ever spoken with a human.”

“I've never met a god-messenger before,” Vindonnus said, redundantly, in Gabriel's mind. “Do you have a message for me?”

“Er… no. No, not really. I was just… here.” Gabriel flexed his wings and tucked them back, not sure if he wanted Vindonnus to touch them again just yet. “You came to me, remember?”

“Do you live in the forest?” Vindonnus walked around Gabriel, coming to stop in front of him. He was curious, yes, but his eyes still shown with awe at the celestial being before him.

Gabriel shook his head. “I live… with my Father. In Paradise.” He wasn’t positive what Vindonnus believed, but just about every human had some idea of a perfect afterlife. It was close enough to Heaven for the human to understand. “I’m just visiting the forest.”

“You wanted to be upset. That’s what you said earlier.”

“Yes.” Now that Vindonnus was standing still again, Gabriel circled around him. He didn’t need to, but it made the man grin to see his gestures repeated. “How are you understanding me? I’m not speaking your language.”

“You haven’t said anything _not_ in my language.”

“I’m speaking in _my_ language,” Gabriel argued. He shifted his thoughts into Vindonnus’ language and spoke again. “ _Now_ I’m speaking in yours.”

“They sound the same to me.”

Maybe it was a fluke of Vindonnus’ nature, that he could understand the language of angels, just like he could stand in Gabriel’s presence without any pain. Maybe Vindonnus was just special, utterly special. _Maybe_ Vindonnus was meant to be a vessel.

“Vindonnus?” Gabriel reached out again, touching Vindonnus’ red curls, pushing a stray one out of his face. “Can I try something else?”

“You are the god-messenger,” Vindonnus answered with a grin. “What are you going to try this time?”

“My Father said an-messengers can take vessels to walk among humans without hurting them. I already don’t hurt you. Can I try to take you as my vessel?”

“Will you give me back?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered. _If I can,_ he added to himself.

Vindonnus nodded, the trust evident in his pale eyes. “I would like to be your vessel, yes.”

At the man’s _Yes_ , the air around him shimmered, a golden bridge jumping from the man’s soul to Gabriel’s spirit. Vindonnus did not seem to see this change, but Gabriel touched it and suddenly _knew_. He closed his eyes and poured himself through the bridge, flowing easily into the human, filling his fleshy body with the grace and power of an Archangel.

When Gabriel opened his eyes again, the world felt soft and muted. Colors were less vibrant, shadows loomed deeper, sounds were muffled. His whole body tingled with sensations, the sensation of _touch_ so much stronger, and a curl of red hair hung in his face.

Gabriel lifted a hand to brush the curl away, jumping when he _saw_ his hand. Pale and solid, dotted with freckles, with callouses across the fingers and palms and short, blunt nails. A _human_ hand. Touching human hair, that was attached to a human head… that he was looking out of!

“I have a body!”

Gabriel’s voice sounded distorted to his ears, not like Vindonnus’ voice at all and certainly not like his own. He could _feel_ the sound in his throat and pressed his hand to it experimentally. A pulse throbbed against his fingers-- _his_ pulse. He had a pulse! A heartbeat! _He had a heart!_

Was this what a vessel felt like? Hair, face, skin, _clothes_? Gabriel turned, and dry leaves crunched beneath his feet. He took a breath (He was _breathing_!) through his nose (He had a _nose_!) and he _smelled_. The forest was full of scents, a loamy earth, fresh growth, pine, peat, musk… so many scents that Gabriel was somehow cataloguing. Vindonnus’ mind had to be helping him, because Gabriel didn’t know how else he could distinguish between the smell of a tree and the smell of an animal.

Frowning (He had a mouth! He could _frown_!), Gabriel looked inward for any trace of Vindonnus. He found the man’s soul nestled within him, cradled and protected by Gabriel’s fiery spirit. The soul was calm, inert, like it was sleeping. That was concerning: souls never slept. The bodies that carried them might, but the soul itself was always switched on.

Gabriel prodded gently at Vindonnus’ soul. It stirred beneath his grace, flickering weakly against Gabriel.

_Did it work?_

The soul even _sounded_ sleepy, but it was coherent, and Gabriel could relax. He hadn’t flattened this human with his presence. _I think so. I seem to be controlling your body._

_Feels weird,_ Vindonnus declared, twitching away from Gabriel’s grace. _Hot. Bright. Gonna sleep again…_ His soul was already fading back to the inert state.

That must be a method of self-preservation, Gabriel decided. The soul switched off so it wouldn’t risk being burnt out by the close presence of the angel. He smoothed over the soul with his grace and let it rest. What to do now?


	11. Cain and Abel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel can’t stand being the only angel with a vessel. He goes to alert Sammael and Michael, and together they discover what physical bodies can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT.
> 
> Is that enough? I agonized over the rating for it for a while. This is really the _only_ smutty chapter in the whole story, but it does have a threesome, but it's not... I mean, it is a bit explicit, I guess, but I've read more explicit? Arrrrgh! I don't want the whole story to be branded horribly highly rated and only have one sex scene in 64 chapters--I feel that's a bit of a copout to people looking for graphic angel-on-angel...cest. But I don't want to NOT warn you either!
> 
> Tell you what, if you're uncomfortable with smut, why don't you check out this story on ff.net? I posted a PG-15 rated version of this chapter there. Options make everything better, right? [A History of Heaven](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9691398/11/A-History-of-Heaven).

### Cain and Abel

Envesseled, Gabriel could run, jump, and fly, though every gesture felt heavy, weighted down by the solid mass of flesh and bone he wore over his spirit. Gabriel experimented with his human body, scrambling up a tree and pursuing a deer by leaping through the branches. Vindonnus had been hunting, Gabriel realized, the information offered up by the quiet soul he carefully held within him. He should help Vindonnus out in exchange for borrowing his body.

The bow was confusing to figure out. Angels fought with blades and wings, not with ranged weapons like this. If they needed to hit something over a distance, they used blasts of pure grace or threw a blade. Gabriel’s fingers seemed to know how to hold the bow and arrow, but the actions felt stiff and ungainly to the angel. With a growl, he tucked the bow aside and drew a short sword from his grace instead. The deer he had been following was now standing still, unaware of his presence.

A quick glance ahead through time showed that the deer was going to die today anyway. If Gabriel didn’t kill it, Vindonnus would. Either way, she would feed his family. Gabriel shifted on the branch, lining up his shot before flinging his knife forward.

Gabriel might not like to fight, but that didn’t mean he _couldn’t_. The deer dropped instantly, an angel’s blade buried in her skull. Gabriel hopped out of the tree and knelt beside her carcass. “I’m sorry, pretty one, but humans need to eat. Thank you for your life. It will sustain his family.” He touched his hand gently over the doe’s eyes, closing them, before easily scooping her up and hoisting her over one shoulder. He’d drop this off at the camp where he could feel the rest of Vindonnus’ family, and then he’d go off again, testing his limits while within a human vessel.

When he finally slid out of Vindonnus, only an hour had passed. The man staggered, but Gabriel caught him and held him steady while he found his feet again. “That was _amazing_!”

Vindonnus gave the angel a shaky grin. “It worked?”

Gabriel nodded. “I entered your camp, and no one was hurt!”

“ _What_!?” Vindonnus stared at Gabriel. “What did you do to them?”

“Nothing!” Gabriel assured the man. “I brought them a deer—you were trying to hunt for them when you found me, right?” Vindonnus nodded, and Gabriel gently squeezed his arms. “I brought them a deer and told them I—you—would be back soon. I just wanted to see if humans could bear my presence while I was envesseled.”

“You… brought food to my family?”

Gabriel nodded. “Was that… was that okay? I wanted to give you something in thanks for letting me use your body.”

“If you help my family, you are a friend of mine,” Vindonnus decided. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Gabriel insisted. “My brothers and I have been trying to figure out how to take a vessel for months now. Now I know, and I can teach them. May I bring them to you, to show them?”

Vindonnus nodded. “I would not say no to a god-messenger. But… could you come back during the night, when my family sleeps? I don’t want them to be scared.”

“I can do that,” Gabriel agreed. “Thank you again, Vindonnus. I’ll see you soon.” He stepped back from the human and spread his wings, watching amazement fill Vindonnus’ face again. A second later, he was gone, leaping into the sky and hurtling between the planes to return to Heaven.

Who to tell first? Gabriel’s choir was the obvious answer—they needed to learn how to take vessels to do their jobs—but Gabriel was worried that Vindonnus might just be a fluke. What if it didn’t work with them? Cariel would be happy to test things with him, but Cariel was confined to Heaven. Sammael? Sammael always took time to teach Gabriel whenever he figured out something new. Gabriel had never had an opportunity to return the favor. And Gabriel couldn’t possibly lose face in front of Sammael if it didn’t work a second time. Sammael would be fascinated by Gabriel’s experience and try to figure out what went wrong. Sammael was the perfect brother to go to. Gabriel flared his grace to Sammael, a silent _Where are you?_ but Sammael didn’t answer. Gabriel had to look for him the long way.

Sammael wasn’t in his tower, but Azazel suggested Gabriel check the fields just to the north. Michael had been by, and he and Sammael frequently went there to spend time together. Thanking Sammael’s second, Gabriel took off again, pushing his wings as hard as he could, practically bursting at the seams to tell someone about his vessel.

Michael and Sammael _were_ in the fields, facing off against each other with their swords drawn. They were just sparring, Gabriel recognized, and from the gleeful tint to their graces, they were both thoroughly enjoying themselves. Michael and Sammael were easily the best warriors of God, the strongest and fastest angels ever made. Even Gabriel and Raphael were no match for them in combat. They could only truly have a challenge when they battled each other. Their swords flickered through the air between them, silver blades ringing like bells whenever they came together. Strike, parry, feint, thrust, the two angels danced across the field in perfect sync. Gabriel folded his wings and dove toward them, wondering if they would even notice his presence or if they were too wrapped up in each other.

Michael gave a shout, yanking his sword back as Gabriel interrupted their match, and Sammael danced back a few steps, laughing, stretching his wings forward to catch Gabriel and pull him close. “That was dangerous, little brother!”

“You’d never hurt me.” Gabriel flung his arms around Sammael, hugging him tightly. “Am I interrupting anything important?”

“Interrupting, yes,” Michael said, sheathing his sword with an indulgent look in his eyes as he watched his younger brothers. “Important, not really. Did something happen, Gabriel?”

Gabriel couldn’t contain the burst of excitement that flooded his grace at Michael’s question, a brilliant flash of light. “Yes!”

“Something good, obviously!” Sammael laughed. “Did Cariel’s wings heal?”

“No, this has nothing to do with Cariel.” Gabriel flapped his wings to put himself at Sammael’s height, his feet off the ground. “I took a vessel!”

“You did _what_?” Sammael held Gabriel at arm’s length, staring at his little brother. “A _vessel_? You figured it out?”

“I did! I met a human whose eyes didn’t melt, and I spoke with him and his ears didn’t bleed, and… and I took him as a vessel!” Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Michael, who looked impressed. “It was incredible. I had a body, a mouth, skin, _weight_ …”

“Show us!” Sammael released Gabriel, letting him land, though his own wings were spread and flexing impatiently. “Show us how to take a vessel, Gabriel.”

Gabriel nodded eagerly, but Michael took a step back. “Perhaps you two should go alone.”

“Nonsense,” Sammael declared. “Michael, we already agreed; we’re spending today together. Filiel can handle Heaven while you take _one day_ to play on Earth.”

“Play?” Michael repeated skeptically, but Sammael was nudging Gabriel to follow his lead and holding out his hands to his older brother.

“Please, Michael? Please come to Earth with us? It won’t be as much fun without you!”

“Pleeeeease?” Gabriel echoed, mimicking Sammael’s pleading stance. “Oh please, Michael, we never spend time together these days, just the three of us!”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?” If Sammael could shrink himself to the size of a fledgling again, Gabriel was sure he would, just to get Michael to succumb to his begging. It wasn’t necessary. Even as Michael was shaking his head and taking another step back, he was also laughing and stretching his hands forward to them.

“Fine! If you both really want me there, I’ll go!”

Sammael grabbed Michael’s hands and yanked him forward into a hug, lifting his older brother off his feet. “Let’s do this! Lead the way, Gabriel!”

Gabriel made sure to fly through time as well as the planes, landing hours later than when he left Earth. The sun had set in Vindonnus’ part of the world, and his little family camp was quiet and still. Vindonnus himself sat awake by a small fire, shaping some sticks with his knife.

“That’s him,” Gabriel whispered, peering through the trees with Michael and Sammael at his side. All three of them were veiled to human senses at the moment. Even Vindonnus was unaware of their presence. “That’s Vindonnus. My vessel.”

“He doesn’t look at all unique,” Sammael said.

“No, look again,” Michael pointed. “See his soul, there? That pattern?”

Sammael cocked his head to the side, studying Vindonnus, before his eyes widened, and he looked sharply at Gabriel. “Oh!”

“Oh what?” Gabriel asked, squinting at the human. “I don’t see anything special.”

“One of the patterns in his soul,” Michael explained. “Those jagged lines? It’s similar to your spirit.”

“It looks like you when you were a fledgling, pudgy and undeveloped, but definitely yours,” Sammael said. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t hurt him. Your grace and his soul resonate the same.”

“It’s a theory,” Michael mused. “Can you call him over? Sammael doesn’t have that pattern. If his presence hurts the human, then it could very well be the key to finding vessels.”

“I don’t want to hurt Vindonnus.” Gabriel looked between his brothers, suddenly wondering if this had been a good idea.

“I’ll only reveal myself a little,” Sammael said, holding up finger and thumb barely apart. “And I’ll veil again if it hurts him. No permanent damage.”

“We’ll heal him if it goes wrong, Gabriel,” Michael said, and Gabriel’s name was a soothing caress to his worries. “Call him over.”

Gabriel nodded and slipped out of the trees, crossing invisibly to Vindonnus’ side. He crouched by the human, reaching out to run his fingers along the man’s arm.

Vindonnus jumped, looking around in alarm. “Gabriel?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered. “Vindonnus, my brothers have come. They are in the trees now, and would like to meet you. Could you come with me?”

“I should wake my brother,” Vindonnus said, though he was already setting aside his tools. “Someone needs to watch my family while I am gone.”

“Your family will be safe.” Gabriel drew a few protective sigils in the dust at their feet and murmured a word of power to activate them. “No harm can come to them here while you are with me.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” It was the least Gabriel could do for Vindonnus. The sigils would keep low-level danger away. If anything _big_ came, like dragons, or the last few unicorns… well, Vindonnus wouldn’t have been able to protect his family from those anyway. The wards would make sure Gabriel knew of the danger, and then Gabriel could come flying back to try to protect the humans.

Vindonnus rose to his feet and held out one hand. Gabriel curled his fingers around it and gave a little tug to get Vindonnus walking in the right direction.

Just beyond the trees, Michael and Sammael were waiting with identical ripples of incredulity in their grace. “You said you could talk to the human,” Sammael murmured, keeping his voice hidden. “I didn’t quite believe you!”

“Vindonnus is special.” Gabriel loosened his hold on his grace, letting enough spill out so Vindonnus could see him again. The man grinned as he turned toward the light, giving Gabriel’s hand another one of those delicate squeezes. “Vindonnus, my brothers are here. Michael is standing in front of that tree, and Sammael is here at my side.” He gestured to where the other Archangels were, even though Vindonnus could not see them. “Sammael wants to show himself to you. If it hurts, _please_ close your eyes immediately and tell me.”

Vindonnus nodded. “You are the god-messenger,” he said, grinning cheekily at Gabriel.

“God-messenger?” Sammael echoed.

“Oh, shut up,” Gabriel muttered back to his brother.

Sammael laughed and started to release his own grace. Following Gabriel’s lead, he unfurled himself slowly to give Vindonnus time to react.

Almost immediately, the man cried out and stepped back, releasing Gabriel’s hand to cover his eyes with his arms.

“Stop it!” Gabriel snapped at Sammael, stepping in front of Vindonnus and pressing his hands over the man’s face. “Vindonnus, Vindonnus, are you all right?” Sammael had yanked his grace back again, waiting silently. “Vindonnus, it’s okay. He’s hidden again. Let me see your eyes.”

“That hurt,” Vindonnus whispered, gingerly lowering his arms. “ _You_ don’t hurt, but he does.”

“We think you are meant for Gabriel only,” Michael said, pitching his voice as quiet as he could but not trying to veil it. Vindonnus still winced, covering his ears, and Gabriel shot an exasperated look over his shoulder at his brother. Michael met his gaze calmly. That had been another test.

“That was Michael,” Gabriel told Vindonnus, cupping his head in his hands and rubbing his thumbs lightly over the man’s jaw, trying to soothe some of his ache. “He thinks you are meant only for me.”

“I don’t like your brothers,” Vindonnus grumbled. “They’re too loud, too bright. You’re perfect.”

“You have an admirer,” Sammael cooed, until Gabriel swatted him with a wing. He ducked it, laughing.

“We’ll just have to find our own humans, ones who resonate with our grace,” Michael said. “Could you show us how you took this man—Vindonnus—as your vessel, Gabriel?”

Gabriel nodded, focusing on the human in front of him again. “Vindonnus, may I take you as my vessel again?”

“Bring back more food?” Vindonnus asked with a grin. Gabriel nodded and Vindonnus nodded back. “Yes.”

The air shimmered gold between them again. Gabriel glanced over at Michael and Sammael, but neither of them seemed to notice it. Maybe it was something only Gabriel could see. He touched the link and poured himself into the human.

It was easier this time. Vindonnus didn’t feel quite as tight, though it was still a snug fit. Gabriel rolled his head on his shoulders and grinned at his brothers. Michael and Sammael had stepped closer to him, their eyes wide.

“Gabriel?” Sammael reached out and prodded Gabriel in the forehead. Gabriel laughed and stepped back.

“That’s all there is to it! What do you think?” He spread his arms and turned slowly for his brothers.

“You look like him, but also like you.” Michael leaned in, peering intently at Gabriel. He wasn’t as brilliant in Gabriel’s eyes. The edges of his form seemed fuzzy and indistinct, and his voice felt weird, distorted, but he was still definitely Michael. Sammael was also fuzzy and sounded funny, but neither were causing Gabriel any pain to see or hear. “Your grace is layered over his soul. The patterns match.” He stroked his fingers over Gabriel’s body, marveling at the sight.

“You’re tracking us,” Sammael said, his eyes on Gabriel’s face. “You can see us, hear us?”

“Of course I can,” Gabriel answered. “You look fuzzy, but-” Even as he spoke, Sammael’s grace brightened and grew more defined, more like the angel Gabriel was accustomed to looking at. Michael followed suit a moment later. “Much better!”

“We’re not veiled now,” Sammael said. “No pain?”

“None.” Gabriel looked inward, at Vindonnus’ soul. “He isn’t reacting either.”

“That’s all there is to it?” Michael asked. “You find a human that can endure you and just… reach?”

“I think he has to say yes,” Gabriel said. “I think you have to ask him to be your vessel, and he says yes. Every time Vindonnus says yes, this golden bridge appears, linking us together. I just touched it, and I could slip inside him.”

“Find a human, ask him to be your vessel, touch the bridge?” Sammael nodded. “I think we can do that. Michael? Let’s go find some vessels of our own.”

Gabriel grinned. “Be careful!” he called after his brothers as they both took to the sky.

Michael and Sammael were going to want to test their limits as soon as they had vessels, Gabriel knew from his own experience. He didn’t want to risk them disturbing Vindonnus’ family, so he spread his wings outside Vindonnus’ body and took to the sky. While his brothers sought out their vessels, Gabriel could search for a section of land mostly isolated from humanity.

Halfway around the world, Gabriel had some success. A thick, ancient forest covered a wide swath of land, and there were miles and miles without humans. The sun was still bright here, breaking through the thick foliage in places. Gabriel pressed his hands against the moss-covered trunk of a gnarled tree and grinned up at the branches. This would be perfect for his brothers.

A flare of grace attracted Gabriel’s attention, and he turned, brightening his own in response. Sammael had called to him. He must have been successful.

Moments later, two swarthy humans with the massive wings of Archangels landed near him. Gabriel's eyes widened as he took in the human forms of his brothers.

Both men were tall, with long dark hair and prominent noses. Sammael’s vessel stood a handspan above Michael’s, and his eyes were a dark, dark brown, rich and inviting. Michael’s vessel was broader in the shoulders than Sammael’s, and his eyes were the same earthy green as the moss behind Gabriel. Both men were older than Vindonnus, but neither had hair on their faces. They wore similar skirts of sheepskin wrapped around their waists and pinned in place, but nothing else covering their dark skin.

Sammael smiled first, his mouth stretch stiffly with the unfamiliar gesture. “These humans want to express everything through their faces,” he said. “I keep doing this.” He reached up, pressing fingers against his lips.

“You're smiling,” Gabriel explained. “It's happiness.”

“I know what a smile is,” Sammael pinched his lower lip and tugged it out before releasing it. “I've just never felt one firsthand.”

“I like your smile,” Michael said. “It's like a physical image of your grace.”

Sammael smiled again at Michael's words, and the expression was much more relaxed this time.

Gabriel grinned at both of them. Smiling had come naturally to him, in Vindonnus' body. The man's face seemed naturally inclined to smile, even when he was at rest. “Your vessels look alike! Did you find them near each other?”

The older angels exchanged a glance before nodding. “They're actually brothers,” Michael explained. “Mine is named Hevel, and he is a shepherd.”

“And I have taken Qayin.” Sammael's smile shifted into a smirk as he leaned against Michael's shoulder. “Qayin's a farmer _and_ he's older.”

“A fact which Sammael has reminded me of no fewer than six times in the minutes we've been envesseled.” Michael shoved lightly at Sammael to knock him off his shoulder. “They were asleep when we found them. I'm not entirely sure if they realized we weren't a dream.”

“But they did say yes. You're right; consent does seem to be the key to taking a vessel.”

“Have you done anything with them yet?” Gabriel asked. “Ran? Jumped? Obviously you flew.”

“That was _bizarre_ ,” Michael marveled, pressing his hands against his chest. “Earth has always called to me, but with these bodies, I felt _drawn_ to it. I understand what you meant, Gabriel. Having a weight is…” He shook his head, at a loss for a description.

Gabriel jerked his head toward the tree. “If you thought that was weird, try this.” He turned from his brothers, folding his wings fully inside his vessel, and grabbed the trunk, finding a knot for one hand. Using nothing more than his body and the tree itself, Gabriel clambered up the side to a wide, sturdy branch. “No wings!”

On the ground, Michael and Sammael looked at each other again before they both broke for the tree, fighting each other for good places to grip or dig their toes in. Gabriel swung a leg over the branch, straddling it, and laughed as he watched their ascent. Michael was in obviously in a rare playful mood as he shouldered Sammael to the side, dodging a gentle kick from his brother. Gone was the Prince of Heaven, the first Son of God, and in its place was Gabriel's big brother, who used to race him between the stars. Sammael's jests were much more common than Michael's, but even so, Gabriel's brothers seemed to have reconnected with their inner fledglings as they connected with their human vessels.

Sammael reached the branch Gabriel was on first, though not for lack of Michael trying to pull him down. He crowed happily, clambering around Gabriel to straddle the branch behind him. Michael just smiled fondly at his brothers, settling down against the trunk. “That was-”

“Exhilarating?” Gabriel offered, crawling forward to fling his arms around Michael's neck. Michael easily returned the embrace, his warm arms wrapping around Gabriel's back. “We have _muscles_ now, Michael! Muscles pulling weight, and fingers gripping tight to hold us up!” He leaned back against Michael's grip, thrusting his hands at Michael's face and wiggling said fingers.

Michael laughed, releasing Gabriel to catch his hands. “And faces, Gabriel, faces making the most amusing expressions, especially yours!” He tapped Gabriel's nose, and Gabriel scrunched it up in response, making Michael laugh again.

“Faces are all well and good, but I'm enjoying these muscles.” Sammael pressed his hands against the branch and pushed himself up to his feet, balancing carefully on the tree. “I can feel them working to hold me up, compensating if I move too much to one side or the other. I'm not even telling them what to do. They move as easily as our wings.” He turned slowly, bare feet curling around the branch. “What do you say we test these muscles out some more? What else was there, Gabriel? Running? Jumping?” Sammael tilted his head to the side and grinned, lifting one hand to beckon to his brothers before taking off. He ran down the branch and _leapt_ , catching himself in another tree as easily as a squirrel. The branch shook beneath Sammael's weight, but he didn't fall off. Instead, he looked back at Michael and Gabriel, a challenge glimmering in his dark eyes. “Catch me if you can!”

Gabriel scrambled to his feet, immediately giving chase. He leapt from tree to tree without any fear—just because they weren't using their wings now didn't mean they _couldn't_ , in case something went wrong. The trees creaked and groaned, showering leaves and twigs onto the forest floor as the three Archangels raced across their branches, shimmying around their trunks and clambering further up into the canopy. Michael caught Sammael first and immediately darted away, leading a chase through the branches to the north. Gabriel eventually got close enough to brush Michael's arm and both his older brothers turned on him.

Sammael was racing along branches above Gabriel, trying to get the drop on him, quite literally, while Michael was steadily gaining as he doggedly followed Gabriel's path exactly. Gabriel hurled himself at a giant oak, too busy taunting his brothers to pay attention to the lack of leaves on this particular tree. He yelped as the dead branch cracked under his weight, sending him toppling toward the ground.

“Gabriel!” Michael and Sammael's voices harmonized even in their vessels as they cried out for him. They had forgotten the game, but Gabriel hadn't. He flared out his wings as he fell, turning his crash into a roll to spring back to his feet, and then he was off running again, glancing back behind him.

“You think a little tumble will slow me down?”

Gabriel could just make out his brothers sharing one of their silent looks before they leapt from the tree, gliding down on their own wings to give chase once more.

In the trees, agility and dexterity could keep Gabriel ahead of the taller Sammael or the stronger Michael, but on the ground, Sammael's long legs were proving advantageous. He pulled ahead of Michael, catching Gabriel just before he could vault over a small creek. Gabriel couldn’t help the squeal that erupted from his throat as Sammael wrapped his arms around his waist and swept him off his feet, swinging him in a circle, both of them laughing. Gabriel kicked his legs out in front of him, feeling like a fledgling himself all over again, leaning back against Sammael's solid chest.

And then, just like when Gabriel was a fledgling, Sammael _let go_ , heaving him into the creek. “Ack!” Gabriel splashed into the water, flailing in the sluggish current. Sammael howled with laughter, nearly bent double from the force of his joy.

Even Michael was grinning as he walked into the scene, though Michael proved he was the nicer brother by also stepping forward to offer Gabriel a hand out of the creek. Gabriel closed his fingers around Michael's arm, letting the older angel haul him out of the mud and water. Sammael still laughed as Michael drew Gabriel onto dry land, though he had toned it down to just a snicker as he approached Gabriel.

Gabriel dropped to his knees, shaking his dripping arms ruefully. He pouted at Sammael, but he wasn't really upset. Water was his least favorite element, but it wasn't going to kill him to be wet.

Sammael folded his long legs and sat in front of Gabriel, his brown gaze caressing Gabriel's face. He reached forward, pushing Gabriel's sodden curls aside, then drew back to frown thoughtfully at the water now on his fingers. As Michael and Gabriel both watched, Sammael lifted his fingers to his nose, sniffing them thoughtfully, before his tongue darted out to taste.

_Taste._ Gabriel was suddenly very aware of his own tongue, something he had never bothered to consider before. He rolled it in his mouth, feeling the hard lines of his teeth, the smooth curve of his palette turning into the spongy roof of his mouth. Behind him, he could hear Michael humming thoughtfully to himself.

Sammael suddenly leaned in, running his tongue lightly over Gabriel's lips. Gabriel gasped at the contact, freezing on the spot. Sammael was frozen as well, his face inches from Gabriel's own, just staring at him.

No angel had ever _licked_ another angel before. Sammael got the dubious honor of that first. But licking itself… humans sometimes licked each other. Cats and dogs did too, and plenty of other animals. It was a very Earthly thing to do, and Gabriel wanted to experience _everything_. He met Sammael's eyes and nodded slowly, not trusting words at the moment.

Deliberately, Sammael leaned in again, sweeping his tongue against Gabriel's lips again, slower this time, allowing Gabriel to savor the electric brush of wet flesh against his mouth. He could hear the quiet thump of Michael sitting down beside them and could just make out his oldest brother leaning toward them, absolute interest written across his face.

Sammael lifted his hands to Gabriel's face, smoothing his fingers over the copper fuzz on his cheeks. He continued to explore with his mouth, tongue sweeping up Gabriel's jaw and across his cheek. Sammael pressed his lips to the tip Gabriel's nose, then dragged them up to finish with a lick between his brows. Gabriel's eyes fluttered closed involuntarily, and he bit his lip as Sammael's mouth ghosted over each closed eyelid.

A third hand brushed against Gabriel's hair, pushing it back, and Gabriel tilted his head with the caress. He could feel Michael even closer now, could sense his grace moments before the oldest angel curled his tongue down the whorls of Gabriel's ear, closing his lips over Gabriel's earlobe and sucking gently. Gabriel's body twitched at the flood of _want_ , another gasp escaping him from the unexpected magnitude of the sensation. He reached out blindly, finding Michael's bare knee and curling his fingers around the bone, needing to ground himself.

Sammael took advantage of Gabriel's gasp, surging in to press their lips together, keeping Gabriel's open with a press of his tongue. This was a _kiss_ , Gabriel knew. Humans did this all the time, to show love and affection, and as a precursor to fornication. Fornication made babies, or it could be done just for the fun of it.

_For the fun of it._ Everything Gabriel had ever known about sex had come from just watching God's creations, but it all paled in light of the _desire_ Sammael was inducing with nothing more than lips and tongue and the heat of his body, so close to Gabriel's own. Only his hands were on Gabriel now, holding him in place, keeping his head still as he plundered Gabriel's mouth.

Humans had sex for the fun of it, but also because they _needed_ to, Gabriel was realizing. Want and desire turned into a desperate _need_ that sizzled down Gabriel's spine, setting off sparks across his skin. He clutched desperately at Michael's knee, as if somehow, his brother could help him.

Michael _did_ react, because now Gabriel could feel fingers brushing against the corner of his mouth, against Sammael's, exploring their kiss. He couldn't help but smile, feeling Sammael echo the expression against his lips.

Gabriel opened his eyes as Sammael drew back, meeting his gaze hopefully for a moment before Sammael turned toward Michael's fingers, rubbing his lips against them. Now it was Gabriel's turn to watch as green eyes met brown. The two older angels fell together, their mouths connecting like they were meant to be one. Gabriel couldn't tear his gaze away from the kiss. It was sloppy and wet, full of tongues and teeth as Michael and Sammael battled each other for dominance even here. Their hands found each other's, fingers lacing together and pulling apart, reaching for shoulders, sliding over chests, down arms, across backs.

_Need._ Gabriel clearly wasn't the only one filled with need if the way his brothers clung together was any indication. And he needed them, both of them. He groaned, digging fingers into Michael's knee, grabbing Sammael's, to keep his hands from reaching between them and breaking their contact.

He broke them apart anyway, their eyes flying open when they heard him, both drawing back just an inch. One perfect strand of saliva stretched between their swollen lips, keeping them connected as they stared at each other. They were communicating, Gabriel realized, not with words, but with a slide of Sammael's eyes, a cant of Michael's head. The bond between these partners was so great that they didn't _need_ words. They turned to Gabriel in unison.

Gabriel felt pinned by the intense focus of both his brothers, leaning back a little under their combined stare. He licked his lips, wondering if his were as red as theirs. Two sets of eyes snapped down to his tongue, and then two angels were leaning in.

Michael swiped his tongue across Gabriel's chin, catching a stray drop of creek water that had been gathering there. Sammael pressed in beside him, his lips kissing the underside of Gabriel's chin as Gabriel tilted his head back. They were moving, shifting to either side of Gabriel, their hands layered together on his thigh as their tongues swept down either side of Gabriel's throat. _Need._ Gabriel needed their hands to move higher, needed to get rid of his clothes, needed to reach for his brothers and touch them back, pull them down to kiss them again. Gabriel closed his eyes and swallowed, struggling to reign in his body before it raced completely out of his control. Michael, to his left, smiled against Gabriel's skin and then _bit_ , his teeth pinching against Gabriel's throbbing pulse. Gabriel whimpered at the first bite but cried out as Sammael followed suit just a moment later, his hips jerking up against his own accord.

_Please, please, please…_ Gabriel chanted in his mind, hoping his brothers had watched humanity enough to understand what Gabriel needed from them. He knew he certainly couldn't find the words to explain it to them, not with his body delighting in every new sensation his brothers were wringing from it.

Sammael peppered kisses across Gabriel's throat until he met Michael's mouth, and the two were kissing again, kissing against Gabriel's skin, their lips sliding together and making the most obscene sounds just beneath Gabriel's chin where he couldn't watch. Sammael's hands were sliding up, stroking over Gabriel's hips and up his chest, feeling across the shirt that kept him from touching. Gabriel swallowed again, feeling their mouths move with the motion, and forced a word out.

“ _Please…_ “

Gabriel finished the word with a whimper as Sammael's fingers curled around the collar of his shirt and _yanked_ , ripping the animal skins open. An annoying, niggling corner of Gabriel's mind reminded him that technically, none of this was his, it was all borrowed from Vindonnus, but Michael's voice slipped inside, covering his worries.

_We can fix it._

And that was all Gabriel needed, really, to give a cry of relief as Sammael bared his chest. His hips jerked again, and he felt himself falling, but suddenly Michael's strong arm was circling his back to catch him. He sucked in a breath, and then another, realizing he was panting heavily, his body not trusting that it was receiving enough air. Michael and Sammael both shifted, pulling their mouths away from Gabriel, and he whimpered at the loss, managing to crack his eyes open.

His brothers were sitting up and staring down at him, their eyes hungry as they licked their lips and _didn't touch._ Gabriel whined and twisted against Michael's arm, trying to remind them that there was more than just _looking_.

Sammael stretched out his hand, but he touched Michael instead of Gabriel, brushing Michael's chin and catching his eye. The two were communicating _again_ , leaving Gabriel out of the loop _again_. He growled his frustration, digging his nails into their knees where he still held on.

Michael pulled his knee away, moving now. He eased himself behind Gabriel, tugging the torn shirt from Gabriel's arms and guiding Gabriel to lean back against his own bare chest. While Michael was distracting Gabriel, Sammael's fingers slid over Gabriel's belt and pulled it open, catching in the waist of his leggings and drawing them down. Michael set his hands on Gabriel's sides and drew them down to curl around his hips, lifting his body enough so Sammael could finish stripping Gabriel's clothes off.

Gabriel had never worn clothes in his life before he met Vindonnus. Angels had no need for clothes. They had no physical bodies to be modest of, or to protect from the elements. Nevertheless, as Gabriel found himself naked before his brothers, a dark seed of fear burrowed into his chest. For a moment, it overrode even the burning _need_ , and Gabriel was scared. He rolled his head back against Michael's shoulder, looking up at Michael's fascinated expression. One of his hands shook as he reached to Michael, brushing his cheek and nudging him to look down at Gabriel's eyes instead of his body.

Michael's eyes widened with sudden understanding as their eyes met, and his arms slid around his little brother's waist in a recognizable hug. He leaned in, nuzzling at Gabriel's hair and cheeks, dotting gentle kisses along his jaw and mouth, refusing to linger. Lower, Gabriel could feel Sammael lie down over his right leg, wrapping an arm around Gabriel's thigh, his tongue flicking out to trace the line of one of Gabriel's hips. He made no other movement, giving Gabriel time to let Michael distract him with those maddening, teasing kisses that just weren't _enough_! Gabriel whined, trying to chase Michael's mouth with his own, but the older angel had more freedom of movement and kept pulling just out of reach.

Sammael huffed a cool laugh against Gabriel's hip, and Michael lifted his head to look at his partner. Gabriel could see the love in his brother's eyes as Michael's gaze traveled along the full length of Sammael's body, stretched out against Gabriel's leg. Sammael's expression mirrored that love, though his mouth was decidedly more mischievous, nipping at Gabriel's skin. He shifted his leg and rocked his hips against Gabriel's calf. A hard line of flesh, covered by Sammael's woolen skirt, pressed against Gabriel's leg, and both angels groaned at the contact. Sammael's dark eyes finally closed as he rocked his hips again, trying to find a rhythm.

Gabriel rolled his head against Michael's chest, biting at his own lips, nipping at Michael's when his brother leaned in for another kiss. He surged up, catching Michael's face more firmly and dragged him down into a _proper_ kiss. Michael allowed Gabriel to move him, kissing back as Gabriel pressed against him, licking his way into Michael's mouth and taking back some control.

When Gabriel finally dropped back to Michael's chest, he couldn't help but smile up at his brother. Michael would _always_ be there for him, whenever Gabriel was scared. _Always_. How was this any different? It was only sex, only something humans did every single day, only pleasure and heat and touch, shared with the brothers he loved and trusted more than any others. The warmth in Michael's eyes as he smiled back was all Gabriel needed to know that his brother loved him just as much, and _that_ was all Gabriel needed to feel safe in his brothers' arms.

Sammael was still rolling his hips against Gabriel's leg, watching him and Michael intently. Gabriel tipped his head toward his brother and smiled at him too before reaching back to loop his arms around Michael's shoulders, pulling just enough to stretch his body taut and exposed before Sammael's gaze. Sammael laughed, but it was warm and happy. Gabriel grinned back, pulling his left leg over to cover Sammael's, rubbing his foot against Sammael's dark skin. Sammael's laugh petered out, and he looked intently at Gabriel. Gabriel nodded back.

Sammael surged up Gabriel's body, licking a trail from belly to throat. He flattened his tongue over one of Gabriel's nipples, and that _need_ slammed back into Gabriel, making him cry out and thrash against Michael. His oldest brother's arms tightened around him, and Michael dropped his head near Gabriel's ear, a low groan finally escaping his throat. Gabriel's breath caught, realizing suddenly that Michael's vessel beneath him was just as aroused as Sammael's, as Gabriel's himself. Sammael seemed to have the same realization, his eyes snapping to Michael's, then to Gabriel's, and then he grabbed Gabriel by the hips and pushed him back, spreading him against Michael's wool-covered erection.

Gabriel wailed as Michael's body was _right there_ , scratching at Michael's shoulders and back as the _need_ solidified into a wordless plea for more. He _needed_ more, there, right there. “Please,” he whispered, his voice raw and shaky even to his own ears.

Michael growled against Gabriel's ear, rocking his hips up at that word, drawing another breathless cry from Gabriel's lips. He dragged his nails up Gabriel's chest, drawing delicious lines of fire that tingled as they cooled. Sammael's smirk was absolutely wicked as he kept forcing Gabriel's hips to roll against Michael's, spreading him open and pulling him away. Michael caught Gabriel's nipples between his fingers, pinching each time Sammael thrust Gabriel back. Gabriel thrashed against them, spreading his legs open, his pleas catching in his throat as little hiccupping breaths in time with their rhythm.

Sammael settled between Gabriel's thighs, stretching out on his belly. His thumbs rubbed soothingly over Gabriel's hips as he stopped rocking him back and instead held him still, an iron grip that Gabriel couldn't break, no matter how much he wanted to press back against Michael again. Gabriel swallowed thickly and licked his lips, watching Sammael sway his head from side to side, leaning in close to Gabriel's swollen erection, almost enough to kiss. _Pleasepleaseplease!_ Michael pressed up, dragging himself along the cleft of Gabriel's ass, and Gabriel whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut.

Sammael laughed, a cool puff of air against Gabriel's inflamed skin. Gabriel hissed several unflattering Enochian words, straining to break free from Sammael's grip to find his mouth. Sammael wasn't so easily dissuaded. He lifted Gabriel's hips up further, drawing him away from even the small relief of Michael's body, and leaned in.

At the first touch of Sammael's tongue to the taut skin just behind Gabriel's sac, Gabriel _screamed_ , high and strained, his true voice ripping out of his human throat. His body bowed forward, and he released Michael's shoulders to reach for himself, the _need_ demanding he be touched. Sammael hissed a warning and Michael snatched Gabriel's arms back, pinning them against his heaving chest with as much force as a mountain. Gabriel wasn't moving anywhere as long as Michael didn't want him to.

Pleased with Gabriel's restraints, Sammael dipped his head again, his tongue trailing down, _there, right there_! Gabriel tossed his head against Michael's chest, digging his heels into the earth as Sammael teased him with little delicate licks, then broad swipes, pressing in, kissing him, tasting him, _devouring_ him. Sammael removed one of his hands from Gabriel's hips, but his grip with the other was tight enough to bruise Gabriel's fair skin, holding him in place. Gabriel wrapped his freed leg around Sammael's back, trying to urge him closer.

Michael suddenly gasped against Gabriel's shoulder, biting into the flesh to keep his noises muffled as he whimpered in pleasure. Gabriel looked up at Michael, just barely noticing he was staring past Gabriel at Sammael. Michael pulled away from Gabriel's shoulder enough to give Sammael a little nod, and then Sammael was guiding Gabriel's hips back against Michael's.

With the first slide against Michael's hips, Gabriel realized Michael's clothes were gone. Sammael must have tugged them free one-handedly, but Gabriel couldn't think about anything further. Michael's bare cock, hard and slick, pressed against his ass, slid against the base of his spine, thrust after thrust _almost_ but not quite _there_. Gabriel cried over and over again, a babbling plea for “ _More, more, please, more!_ “ as he strained against Michael's arms. His own cock was so hard it _hurt_ , the purple head fully exposed and leaking pearly trails down his shaft. At his shoulder, Michael licked his lips, his eyes focused on Gabriel now. A flicker of Michael's thoughts, wondering what Gabriel would taste like, slipped into Gabriel's head, and Gabriel groaned, deep and low.

Sammael finally drew away from them with another laugh, bracing his hands on Gabriel's spread thighs to lean up and kiss Gabriel deeply. He was watching Michael through the kiss even as his hands slid up to Gabriel's hips. Gabriel barely had time to acknowledge the movement before Sammael had lifted Gabriel, positioning him better over Michael's cock. As Michael thrust up, Sammael guided Gabriel down. Gabriel sobbed as Michael filled him, so much thicker and harder than Sammael's tongue had been. His muscles seized, wanting to reject this intrusion.

Michael was panting against Gabriel's shoulder, still holding Gabriel's arms in his vice-like grip. Gabriel could feel Michael struggling to stay still, to give him time to recover. He gasped in ragged breaths, a few tears escaping his shut eyes to roll down his cheeks and drip onto Michael's shoulder.

The sharp gasp Michael gave was not a pleased one. Gabriel forced his eyes open just enough to see Michael's worried gaze focusing on him. Michael leaned forward, brushing soft kisses against every inch of Gabriel's face he could reach, loosening his grip on Gabriel's arms to stroke over his skin. Gabriel's grace was already responding to the situation, racing through his body, relaxing his muscles, opening him up to his brother. The pain was already diminishing, leaving behind a delicious fullness that reminded Gabriel of the first time he slipped into Vindonnus' body. Only this time, it was _so much better_ , because it was Michael, and Michael was _right there_ , exactly where Gabriel needed him to be.

Michael was kissing away Gabriel's tears, though, clearly afraid that he had hurt his brother. Gabriel didn't want that. He wanted Michael to move, to enjoy himself again. Words were too hard, so Gabriel settled on actions instead. He braced himself against Michael's hold and lifted his hips, then pushed back with a grunt. Biting his lip, Gabriel did it again, managing to lift himself a little further off Michael this time before shoving back. Michael hissed, his forehead dropping against Gabriel's shoulder.

Sammael leaned in again, having pulled back when he noticed Gabriel's tears. He grabbed Michael's shoulders, tugging him forward. Michael finally released Gabriel's arms as Sammael unbalanced them both, and Gabriel caught himself on his hands and knees, Michael still inside him. Michael could control the pace of their coupling now, and Gabriel had much better leverage to rock back. The oldest angel gave an experimental thrust, which Gabriel answered with a push of his hips.

Michael's fingers found Gabriel's hips as they rocked together, digging in with every frantic thrust. His lips brushed Gabriel's back, rewarding each cry from Gabriel's throat with a spattering of kisses against his skin.

Sammael knelt in front of Gabriel, biting his own lips. He tugged at the wool wrapped around his waist, pulling it free. His cock rose straight and proud against his belly, jutting out from a dark thatch of curls. Gabriel's eyes focused on it, his voice shifting to reflect his desire. _He_ wanted a chance to taste. He rolled between his brothers, pushing back to meet Michael, surging forward to try to reach Sammael. Sammael eased closer, catching Gabriel's head in his hands and helping brace him against Michael's thrusts as he drew Gabriel down.

Gabriel swept his tongue over the head of Sammael's cock and groaned as the taste exploded over him, sharp and musky, much stronger than the taste of Sammael's mouth. He could hear Michael groan behind him, digging his fingers in tighter as he thrust harder, rocking Gabriel against Sammael and making him cry out against Sammael's flesh.

Sammael released Gabriel's head and reached for Michael. They were kissing again, leaning over Gabriel's back, and then Michael slammed his hips into Gabriel's body and shouted wordlessly, his very _grace_ exploding out from him in a massive corona as he finished.

Gabriel sagged toward the earth, gasping against the dirt as Michael eased himself back. His hips ached as his brother released him, his whole body ached, and his cock was all but _screaming_ to be touched. Gabriel's own grace was tightly coiled within him, a swirling ball of heat and that ever-present _need_. Gabriel didn't reach for himself. Sammael and Michael had stopped him when he had tried earlier, and so he would not try again, not until they let him.

In front of him, Sammael rocked back on his haunches, panting heavily, his cock still hard and leaking, hips unconsciously rolling in tight circles. Gabriel lifted his head and then pushed up, off the ground, reaching for Sammael's shoulders to support himself. He couldn't stop the breathy little moans that every movement wrung from him. His body was trembling from the strain of this extended pleasure, and he could feel a wet trail against his inner thigh from Michael.

Michael, who was behind him, who was suddenly pressed against his back once more, sliding his hands between his legs and lifting him physically onto Sammael's lap. Gabriel clung to Sammael as Michael guided their brother inside him.

Gabriel could only muster the energy for a drawn out moan as he was filled again, but Sammael cried out and surged forward, tipping Gabriel back against Michael's chest. Gabriel just held on as Michael easily supported his weight, crying out a ragged, endless plea as Sammael drove into his body. He met Michael's eyes, barely able to focus anymore, and then Michael, blessed Michael, was reaching over his body and _finally_ curling a hand around Gabriel's swollen cock. Michael barely touched him before Gabriel was screaming his own release, his grace erupting with all the force of an ancient volcano. Michael's wings snapped out, catching Gabriel's grace and soothing the frayed strain from being held on edge so long.

So caught up was he in his own relief, Gabriel almost missed the moment when Sammael let go, buried deep within him. Sammael's brilliance exploded through the forest, winging through trees. He swept up Michael and Gabriel both in his exuberance, and for one endless moment, the three brothers were one, their graces thoroughly mixed. Gabriel knew intimately the depths of Michael's love, the breadth of Sammael's admiration, and he offered up the heights of his own joy. These were his brothers, his lights, his world, his _everything_. This is how they were meant to be.


	12. Coming Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel returns to Heaven, and the angels coexist peacefully with humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of 100 views (woo!), have another chapter! No real comments on this chapter--it's really a link between two big chunks of the story.
> 
> Fun fact: Qayin and Hevel, Cain and Abel, lived roughly around 4,000 BC, according to my internal story clock, which completely coincidentally coincided with the age that some fundamentalists believe the Earth is/when Adam and Eve and their kids (Cain and Abel!) were running around. Didn't plan it that way. I love when a story just _works_

### Coming Down

When Gabriel finally managed to ease his own grace back around himself, he found his cheek pillowed against Michael's shoulder with Sammael sprawled bonelessly over them both. He smiled, reaching up to run his fingers through Sammael's hair, and felt a gentle kiss placed on the top of his head from Michael.

“We absolutely have to do that again,” Sammael murmured, his voice a throaty purr as he rubbed his face against Gabriel's chest. Gabriel hummed his agreement.

_Gabriel? Gabriel, can you hear us? Are you all right? Gabriel!_

Gabriel frowned, easing himself out from between Michael and Sammael as the voices of his other brothers flickered through his head. The members of his choir who were on Earth were calling out to him on the mental frequency reserved for Gabriel's angels, their words clear in the back of his mind.

_I'm here; I'm fine,_ Gabriel answered, glancing over at his older brothers. Sammael was now spread over Michael, and Michael looked perfectly content with his living blanket. They were both watching Gabriel curiously, but they recognized the signs of speaking with the choir and didn't interrupt.

_I felt something, like an explosion of grace._ That was Zachariah, his second lieutenant. Gabriel could feel his grace on the other side of the world, but it was moving toward him. _I'm bringing in a garrison for backup if you need it._

_No need!_ Gabriel shook his head, even though Zachariah wouldn't be able to feel the gesture. He didn't want any of his younger brothers bursting onto this scene. What he shared with Michael and Sammael was shared between them only. It wasn't for the rest of his choir to gawk at. _Michael and Sammael are already with me. We were experimenting with our new vessels. There is no danger here._

None of that was a lie, and as Gabriel had hoped, his choir burst into excited chatter immediately. _New vessels? You've figured out how to take vessels? Can we take vessels? Will you teach us?_

Gabriel laughed over the broadcast as he tried to sort out the different voices of his angels. _When we're back in Heaven, I'll explain envesseling to all of you. Until then, carry on with your duties as before. This doesn't change anything. Yet._

Zachariah's trajectory changed, and Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief. No interruptions. He looked back to his brothers and grinned as he saw them kissing again. Sammael was pressing Michael back against the earth. Michael broke the kiss first, turning his head to smile at Gabriel. “Assured them the world wasn't about to die again?” He reached out an arm for his little brother, and Sammael rolled over on top of him to do the same.

“They wanted to come help.” Gabriel explained, taking his brothers' hands and letting them pull him back into their embrace. Was this what having a partner was supposed to feel like, this cocoon of love and warmth and caring? Gabriel wanted to wrap himself up in his brothers and stay there forever. He couldn't imagine Raphael ever making him feel this accepted. “I told them you two were handling any dangers already.”

“We certainly did have a handle on things,” Sammael snickered, his hand sliding down between Gabriel's legs. Gabriel drew away reluctantly, shaking his head.

“Not now, we really shouldn't. I need to return Vindonnus before his family wakes and finds him gone.”

Vindonnus. Gabriel had been in Vindonnus' body these past few hours, using the man for his own pleasure without any thought as to what the human might think of it. He knew some men frowned upon having sex like they had, being taken by another man, like he was a woman. A gentle probing inward reassured Gabriel that Vindonnus' spirit was still resting, blissfully unaware of what had transpired. Good. Gabriel would keep him that way.

Michael sat up, one arm wrapped around Sammael, and he reached out to touch Gabriel's mouth. A stroke of his thumb over swollen lips combined with a spark of grace, and Gabriel could feel his body heal. Sammael was doing the same, petting his fingers over the red marks scraped down Gabriel's freckled chest, dotting his grace over every finger bruise on Gabriel's hips. Neither Michael nor Sammael had emerged quite as battered as Gabriel, so he just hummed and let them heal him.

Sammael eventually rolled to his feet to collect their scattered clothing. He held up Vindonnus' torn shirt and frowned before snapping his fingers. The shirt was instantly mended and back on Gabriel's body. Another snap, and Gabriel was fully dressed again. He snapped his fingers right back at Sammael, whipping his skirt back around his hips. Michael just shook his head at them, waving his hand to dress himself without any fuss.

“Can't even tell,” Sammael declared. “Our vessels will think this was all just a wonderful dream.”

“We should return ours too,” Michael said, pushing himself to his feet. “Shepherds and farmers wake early.” He drew Gabriel in close, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “We'll see you again in Heaven. Thank you, Gabriel, for showing us this.”

Sammael's tongue slipped into Gabriel's mouth as he kissed his little brother. “Next time we're both free, we should do this again.”

Michael held out his hand, and Sammael took it. They both smiled at Gabriel, flaring out their wings, before they were gone. Gabriel followed moments later, taking Vindonnus home (and scooping a marlin out of the ocean on his way, to fulfill his promise of feeding Vindonnus' family again).

Leaving Vindonnus to marvel at the size of the fish, Gabriel flew back to Heaven. Cariel was seated at his desk, going over some reports. He looked up when Gabriel entered, but then his head cocked to the side, his grace puzzled. “Something's different.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, perching on the edge of his own desk and stealing a page out of Cariel's hands. “What have you been working on?”

“Barachiel is concerned with the pressure building up within the Earth. He's drawn up a ten thousand year scheme suggesting key volcanos to trigger to vent some of the energy. You'd have to be involved with a few of the bigger ones, but he should be able to handle most of them.” Cariel reached out and touched Gabriel's face, tracing his fingers over it. “You have a _mouth_!”

“Do I?” Gabriel reached for his own face and grinned, feeling the expression stretch his spirit. “I do!”

“How… _why_?” Cariel touched his own face, smooth, unblemished spirit beneath his eyes. He had no mouth.

Gabriel shrugged, tossing Barachiel's volcanic scheme back to his desk. “Mouths are fun. Why not?”

As with all of God's creations on Earth, the angels also evolved with time. Unlike God's creations though, their evolutions did not come about as long-term changes through the generations. The angels' forms shifted and changed to adapt to whatever they needed. New features tended to start with one angel and spread through the Host, though angels could make a deliberate decision to _not_ let their forms change. The Archangels all remembered a time when they did not have distinct legs, but no angel awoken after the creation of _ground_ had ever experienced not having feet.

Gabriel hadn't intended to keep a mouth after returning Vindonnus, but it certainly had been one of his favorite parts of the human. He glanced down to check for any other bodily change, but seemed to be otherwise normal. Looking back at Cariel, Gabriel grinned and then very deliberately stuck his new tongue out at his Seraph.

Cariel's eyes widened, his clipped wings lifting in surprise. “That can't be natural!”

“All creatures on Earth have mouths,” Gabriel pointed out.

“All creatures on Earth also _eat_ ,” Cariel countered. “We don't, ergo, mouths are absolutely unnatural.”

“Maybe we should change that.” Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully, remembering what it felt like to taste Sammael on his tongue, and then Michael. Two very different flavors… and now he understood what flavor _was_. “I think there should be a food for angels.”

“… right,” Cariel said, completely insincerely. “I'll get right on that.”

Gabriel tapped his desk and grinned again. The new expression just would not stay off his face for long! “I'll suggest it to Father next time He calls me in!”

“Are you out of your mind? Tell Father what to do!?”

“He won't get upset about hearing a suggestion.” Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, trusting his Father to do nothing worse than say no if he asked for angelic food. “Oh, and that reminds me. I need to address my choir. And Raphael.” Gabriel's wings drooped automatically at the mention of Raphael's name, and he made a frustrated sound. “Send a messenger, a Cherub, to Raphael. What about Gail? She's friendly enough. Arrange a meeting.”

“You're not going to go to Raphael yourself?” Cariel asked, waving up a quill to make a note.

“This isn’t a message, so I don’t have to go to him.” Gabriel smirked. “Make him come to me if he wants to know how to take a vessel.”

Cariel looked up sharply at the Archangel. “You know how to take a vessel?”

“Figured it out yesterday! I taught Michael and Sammael last night.”

“Is that where you were? Barachiel and Zachariah both sent messengers reporting an odd fluctuation of grace. They asked me if I knew what was going on. I suspect Zachariah was itching for an excuse to kill something. He's been a _nightmare_ since Father limited time on Earth.”

“Which is precisely why I'm letting you handle him,” Gabriel patted Cariel on the shoulder. “If it were me, I'd probably have bitten his head off by now.” He snapped playfully at Cariel, who just shook his head, unintimidated.

“You'd better not suggest cannibalism to Father. I don't think He'd approve.”

“That's disgusting, Cariel!” Gabriel laughed anyway. “Nah, I already talked with Zachariah about the grace thing. Michael and Sammael and I were experimenting with our vessels. The sensory input is completely different inside a human. Vision and hearing are muted unless you make an effort, but everything else is magnified, scents and contact and _flavor_! Cariel, I can't even begin to describe flavor to you. You'll have to experience it for yourself. As soon as you're free to return to Earth, I'm finding your vessel and making you taste things!”

“I look forward to it.” Cariel folded the note for Gail and snapped his fingers, sending it to her wherever she was. “Is that what you need to address the choir for? Vessels?”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes, I need to instruct them on how to take a vessel and how to respect the humans who share their bodies with us.” He pointed a finger at Cariel. “Make sure it's of primary importance. If Raphael tries to schedule a meeting with me, don't reschedule anything for him.”

“You're a dick.” Cariel's amused grace reflected his approval of Gabriel's priorities.

“Only to him!” Gabriel hopped off his desk and moved behind Cariel, squeezing his shoulders lightly. “I'm sorry you can't take a vessel yet.”

“At least I won't be the only inexperienced angel,” Cariel sighed, leaning back against Gabriel's chest. “Naomi's healing slower than I. You'll give me a private lesson when my punishment is over?”

“Absolutely.” Gabriel leaned forward to bump his forehead against Cariel's. “Anything for my second.”


	13. Bow to Humans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God summons His Archangels and commands them to bend their knees to the humans, His greatest creations, but Sammael is not happy with this order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the beginning of Part 2 of this story. The peace and tranquility of Heaven's early days was too good to last forever.

### Bow to Humans

Gabriel raced through Heaven, flying as fast as he could push his wings. Seraphim and Cherubim alike dove out of his way. All denizens of the celestial realm knew that when the gold-feathered Messenger flew at this speed, God Himself had called. Not even Raphael, clipped by Gabriel’s wings as he sped past, would find fault in Gabriel not stopping to apologize.

The summons was an insistent tug in Gabriel’s mind, calling him before his Father. He followed where it led, winging up the Axis Mundi before exploding into the Throne Room. Immediately, Gabriel dropped into a deep bow, five hundred and eighty of his wings outstretched, the last two drawn forward, clasped over his head, a barrier between himself and the brilliance of his Father.

“I am here, Father. How may I serve you?”

As bright and terrifying as his Father was, Gabriel privately admitted that he _loved_ his role in Heaven. Only the Archangels could stand in God’s light for long, and even they could suffer, overwhelmed by his unfiltered grace, if precautions weren’t taken. Sammael frequently flitted after Father to sit with Him, but only Gabriel, as his Father’s Messenger, was _guaranteed_ solo audiences with his Father. He tilted his wings, angling them toward his Father to better absorb the radiating _love_ that always filled these meetings.

 _You have been to Earth. Taken a vessel. Taught your brothers._ His Father’s voice echoed in his head, in his heart, a resounding _knowledge_ of the words rather than any sound itself.

Several thousand years had passed since Gabriel had first discovered the secret to taking a vessel, and he had done all he could to spread the knowledge among the Host. The angels had returned to Earth in droves, diving into vessels and experiencing life as humans did. Gabriel’s choir was especially active, better able to fulfill their duties without time limits.

Their Father hadn’t said anything about these new developments in all that time, but now a flicker of fear ignited within Gabriel’s heart. Had things grown out of control again, like with the dinosaurs? Was Father going to restart the Earth, or inflict His wrath upon Gabriel again?

“We are banished from Earth unless we have a human vessel,” Gabriel began slowly. “This is unbreakable.” An unvesseled angel on Earth was thrown back to Heaven after twenty-four hours, unable to immediately return. They _couldn’t_ break this particular law, even if disobedience occurred to them. “But _with_ a vessel, we are all capable of fulfilling our duties to the planet and its creatures without any fear…” He didn’t have the words to explain himself, not in the all-knowing presence of his Father. Gabriel ducked his head further, praying his Father would be merciful. He did not want to experience His wrath again.

Gabriel did not expect his Father’s laughter, a deep rumble that resonated deep within his grace, filling him with joy and light.

_My little Messenger, do not be afraid. I am pleased you have been forging relations with your human brothers and encouraging the same in all your angelic ones._

Gabriel relaxed, grace swelling from the praise. He let his happiness bubble forth, suffusing his grace with a golden light while he locked away his pride at the knowledge that _he_ had been the catalyst for these changes.

_Bring forth your brothers, Gabriel._

His name, in his Father’s voice, was a warm caress over his grace. His wings shivered from the sheer pleasure of being so acknowledged.

_It is time for a new era._

Gabriel ducked his bow lower, understanding the command in his Father’s words and knowing exactly which brothers God meant. The Archangels. Gabriel spread his wings to fly.

The Axis Mundi rippled beneath Gabriel’s wings, a steady stream of light to guide the lower angels. Gabriel needed no such map. All of Heaven was catalogued within his mind. He had explored every last corner, even the sections dedicated to the humans, even Raphael’s.

Gabriel called to his brothers as he flew, a pulse of his grace spread through the realm. One by one, they flared their graces back at him, announcing their positions in Heaven. Michael and Sammael were together again, in the fields north of Sammael’s tower. Gabriel banked, a graceful curve, and shot off for their location.

As was more and more common these days, Gabriel’s older brothers were locked in a mock battle, wings and swords flashing. Both Michael and Sammael had been growing restless as Earth developed, concerned for a dark future. All angels were warriors, down to the lowest Cherubim. Sammael pointed out that Father would not have created them as such if they weren’t going to be needed in battle someday. The longer peace lasted, the more Michael and Sammael feared war was coming: if not from Earth itself, then from the ancient evils whispered to be locked away in Purgatory, in Limbo. They frequently took every opportunity to spar together or to personally train their younger brothers. As the centuries passed, their sparring tore through new levels of ferocity, and the Archangels held nothing back.

Gabriel touched down gently near the action. His brothers had drawn a crowd, another common sight these days, as the younger angels cheered for their favorite combatant. When they saw Gabriel, they parted before him, dipping into reverential bows. Gabriel made his way to the front of the audience, though he stayed well back from his battling brothers.

“Hold your swords!”

Michael and Sammael sprang apart, tense and waiting, before they simultaneously dropped their guards, a wash of frustration spreading through their graces before they turned to Gabriel together.

“You have a message for us?” Sammael asked, dropping the tip of his sword to the field beneath his wings.

“A summons,” Gabriel answered. “All four.”

“ _Now_?” Michael stood at attention, his sword already sheathed. He never liked to keep their Father waiting.

Gabriel nodded. “You go. I still need to find Raphael. We’ll join you there.”

Both older angels nodded, snapping out their wings and leaping into the air. Gabriel wished he could watch them fly. Their partnership was _perfect_. Everything Michael and Sammael did together, absolutely _everything_ , even a short flight along the Axis Mundi, was a thing of beauty. Gabriel didn’t have time to admire his brothers now, though. He needed to find his own partner, and weather the discord that would bring.

Raphael was at the eastern edge of Heaven, staring out into the Borderlands alongside several of his Seraphim. He stood straight and tall, wings folded neatly at his back. Gabriel landed behind him, fighting the urge to tweak a wing or steal his sword. He was here with a _message_. He would not act unprofessional (and give his brother more reason to harangue him).

“Father had a message?” Raphael’s voice was cool, his attention unbroken. He didn’t even spare his brother a glance. Gabriel rustled his wings in irritation at the small slight.

“Yes, He-”

“He is summoning us. You have already alerted Michael and Sammael.”

Gabriel snapped his wings and folded his arms. “They were closer.”

“I was simply voicing my assumptions, Gabriel, not criticizing your… _work_.”

Raphael did not caress with Gabriel’s name. He struck with it, a sharp jolt across the back of Gabriel’s grace that grated the smaller angel. Raphael might claim not to be criticizing, but he could at let Gabriel deliver the message himself, even if it was an obvious one.

“Your assumptions are correct.” Gabriel forced calmness into his grace, though his voice rumbled with his disapproval. “Father would have the four of us meet with Him.”

“Try to keep up,” Raphael answered with a humorless smirk. He had adopted a mouth like all the other angels, but he didn’t seem bothered to learn how to smile with it. The Archangel of the Air unfurled his sleek, pointed wings, raising them for flight. “It would be embarrassing if the Messenger was the slowest to arrive.” He took to the air, with Gabriel just a wingbeat behind.

Raphael still easily beat him back to the Throne Room. His wings were designed for speed, while Gabriel’s were far more maneuverable. In a forest, Gabriel could outfly Raphael every time, but in the open air of the Axis Mundi, Raphael’s advantage was obvious.

His brother had not waited for Gabriel to arrive. When Gabriel landed, he was alone outside the Throne, Room, save for the Cherub Joshua, who was obstinately sweeping the pristine steps. Joshua smiled warmly at Gabriel, and Gabriel returned the expression, smoothing his grace over his little brother’s. The simple exchange with a much sweeter angel was enough to soothe away most of Gabriel’s Raphael-induced irritation. Pulling calm back through his grace again, Gabriel reentered the Throne Room.

Michael, Sammael, and Raphael were already bowing before God in the same position Gabriel had been earlier: all but one pair of wings spread, the last clasped over their heads. Gabriel slipped past the submissive display of feathers to take his place at Sammael’s right side, quickly dipping into his own bow.

This time, his Father’s laughter was quiet, indicating a private moment He was sharing with Gabriel alone, accompanied by a stroke of pleasure over Gabriel’s progress in not intentionally needling his twin while performing his duties. Gabriel basked in his Father’s silent praise, dismissing his last vestiges of annoyance.

_Be seated._

The Archangels rose in order of their age, sweeping around to stand before their thrones, their backs to their Father, before they all sat in perfect unison. They never practiced this action, but it was one they all seemed to have Awakened knowing how to do. Gabriel’s wing accidentally brushed one of Sammael’s as they moved, and Sammael flashed him a little smile. Gabriel was warmed from the inside out. Surrounded by his Father and his brothers, nothing could go wrong.

The meeting with their Father began in a fairly standard way. He had asked for a report on all the realms; though He knew everything that was happening already, He enjoyed hearing His sons color the facts with their own opinions. Raphael ran through an account of the Borderlands (which Gabriel mentally summed up as “absolutely no change”), Michael provided a detailed report on the affairs of Heaven (the angels continued to be their usual busy selves), and Gabriel summarized the developments on Earth, including a full accounting of the angels who took vessels the most frequently and several proposed plans for reshaping some of the landscape. Sammael spoke up as he pleased, interjecting his own thoughts into his brothers’ reports. Since he did not claim dominion over any one realm, he could give his feedback on all of them. Lately, he spent most of his time on Earth with Gabriel or Michael, sometimes envesseled, sometimes just watching.

Sammael spoke as Gabriel finished up his report on the vessels. “While taking vessels is all well and good, I’m a bit concerned with just how much we are influencing the development of humanity. Many of the humans taken as vessels have been singled out by their peers. Gabriel’s first vessel, Vindonnus, lived on as a _god_ after his mortal life ended!”

Gabriel ducked his head, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I think I overdid my gifts to him. His tribe marveled at the food and trinkets I returned him with, and I healed some of his family. They didn’t understand what else could be causing it.” Vindonnus had adored Gabriel’s presence in his life, though Gabriel had always suspected Vindonnus loved it more for how the other humans reacted to him after a new trip as opposed to the long stretches of time when his soul slept beneath Gabriel’s grace. Many of the women of his tribe had been especially fond of the man, and his descendents already numbered in the hundreds, each of whom bore similar soul-patterns and could be taken as vessels by Gabriel. The tulpa with a remarkable similarity to Vindonnus had been a complete surprise after the man’s death, but Gabriel visited him frequently and carried stories back to Vindonnus’ soul in Heaven.

“And my first vessel, Qayin…” Sammael looked to his right, where Michael sat in his own throne. Michael looked solemnly back at Sammael. This was an old story, but not one they had ever spoken of before God.

“Qayin and Hevel, our vessels, tried to summon us back shortly after we first met them,” Michael explained. “We had not realized what they were doing, and showed ourselves again after Hevel had made an offering. Qayin… was unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” Sammael scoffed, shaking his head. “You mean Qayin took his brother out to the field and slaughtered him like one of Hevel’s lambs!”

“It was unfortunate,” Michael agreed, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. “I could not get to them in time to save Hevel. He has been installed in his own Heaven here, in gratitude for his service.”

“And Qayin’s soul still roams the Earth, unable to find peace.” Sammael folded his arms. “And this was just what happened with our first vessels! Continue the lines, and you’ll see the stories are very much the same! Idolatry, confusion, murder… it’s all there!”

Gabriel lowered his eyes to his own hands, feeling vaguely guilty. His vessels had thrived, while Michael’s first had been stolen from him and Sammael’s was doomed to never enter Heaven. Many other human vessels were experiencing similar trials. A handful were revered like Vindonnus had been and a few had been killed, but most were shunned as evil if their angels hadn’t been careful to take them only when their absence or personality changes wouldn’t be noticed.

_You have all taken vessels and walked among the humans. Tell Me, is this how you see all humans?_

The four Archangels were silent in their thrones, each hesitant to be the first to speak. Sammael, with the strongest opinions, finally voiced his thoughts.

“The humans are… admittedly fascinating creatures.” He was softening his concerns from earlier, Gabriel noticed, as he directly answered Father. “They are clearly Yours. They go about their lives hungry for a taste of divinity. They have _invented_ gods and spirits, not just revered vessels, but actual sentient beings capable of miraculous deeds, as explanations for Your creations. They worship places and people and _things_ , and without Your peace, they strike out at each other in anger and rage. Many humans have been brutally butchered by their fellow humans. Others die of disease or hunger. They are fragile creatures, full of lies and hatred.”

“There _is_ good in humanity!” Gabriel protested, his wings stirring the air as Sammael gave him a dark look. Gabriel couldn’t really blame Sammael for being disillusioned by his first vessel—no one else’s vessel had killed his _brother_ , but Gabriel didn’t want all of humanity to be painted by Sammael’s temporary disapproval.

“Such as?” Sammael folded his arms to look over at Gabriel.

“Such as… such as _taste_.” Gabriel looked pointedly at Sammael, willing him to remember their first day together in vessels. They had run through that massive forest and reveled in _weight_ and _touch_ and _taste_ , all things angels didn’t ordinarily experience in Heaven. At the time, Sammael had certainly taken to tasting, and Gabriel couldn’t fully hide the wash of pleasure from his memories of that day, or the many others they’d indulged in since. That shared, _human_ experience had drawn his brothers even closer together. Sammael couldn’t ignore all of that just because his first vessel lost his mind.

“Humans can _taste_ , and they make _food_ , delicious foods, sweet and rich and absolutely amazing to eat.”

“And so their ability to taste and design things to be tasted excuses their ability to brutalize each other and worship false gods?”

“You can’t blame them for the false gods,” Gabriel argued. “We’ve been forbidden from talking about Father. They have no way of knowing Him. They do the best they can with their limitations.” He had met some of the false gods Sammael spoke of, concentrated human beliefs given form. Most were vaguely humanoid, and they were all interesting to converse with (especially the ones that attempted to control the sun in the sky, or the ones said to have created the world). All were more powerful than humans, but not one of them could compare to Gabriel’s strength. There was no threat mingling with the pagan gods.

“You don’t explain their violence?”

“I rather like the weight.” Michael’s calm voice slid seamlessly into his brothers’ argument, a verbal nudge to separate them and divert their attention. “It is… pleasurable to _feel_ movement, resistance, solidity. Flying with a body is most peculiar. I feel much more connected with the _ground_ when I am in my vessel.”

“Humans are curious,” Raphael offered. Gabriel leaned forward to look at his twin on the far side of the Throne Room, realizing he had never bothered to ask Raphael himself what he thought of humanity. Three thousand years, and they had never once spoken of their experiences on Earth. “They speak a thousand languages and have developed their own writings. They document, study, _learn_. They aren’t like most dumb animals, content to simply exist. They want to _know_ , to _improve_.”

Raphael approved of knowledge, Gabriel knew, and curiosity if it was not used against him. He was surprised to hear that his brother actually approved of humanity. Raphael often acted like the physical realms were beneath him, and that the only worthy task was to guard Heaven and its true treasures.

_The humans are your brothers, My beloved children, made in My own image._

Beside Gabriel, Sammael shifted in his throne, his wings drawing in tight in a blatant show of disapproval. Gabriel would never have dared to be so impudent before God, but their Father did not chastise this show of disrespect. He had always been indulgent of Sammael’s expressive personality, irreverence and all.

_They are My greatest creations, surpassing all others-_

“Surely not _all_ others!” Sammael twisted in his throne, looking directly back at their Father. “Not surpassing _us_!”

Gabriel’s wings stiffened in alarm, and he could feel the mirrored distress in Raphael’s grace. Michael reacted swiftly, lashing out to grab Sammael’s arm and battering him back into his proper position with his wings. Sammael had _interrupted_ their Father. There was a huge difference between shows of disapproval and _that_! Gabriel pulled his grace in tight, trying to make himself as small a target as possible, in case Sammael had triggered a release of God’s wrath. Raphael was shrinking on himself as well. Only Michael remained flared, his great wings between Sammael and God.

The atmosphere in the Throne Room was tense, cold. Gabriel could not feel his Father’s love at his back and he wanted to wail at the absence. How could Sammael have _dared_ to interrupt their Father, to speak against Him? And how could he be the only angel in the room without panic lancing through his grace? Even Michael was visibly anxious, fine tremors shaking his wings as he held them as a shield.

_ALL others._

God finally spoke again, though He remained a cold fire behind their thrones. The voice booming in their heads was hardly an improvement. Gabriel wanted to fling himself to the floor, to prostrate himself before his Father and beg forgiveness for a disgrace he did not commit.

_There will be a new order in Heaven. As angels, it will be your duty to guide the humans, teach them, bow to them. You will love them above all others, above each other, above even Me._

“Father, I can’t!”

Sammael leapt off his throne, whirling around to face God, his arms outstretched in supplication. “Human beings are flawed, murderous creatures! I cannot love them above my brothers, above _You_!”

“Sit _down_!” Michael hissed, lunging off his throne and grabbing Sammael’s arm again. He tried to yank Sammael back to his seat, but the younger angel was resisting. Gabriel tucked several more wings around his head and curled his major set around his body, curling up in his throne. Raphael was doing the same. Both of their self-preservation instincts were screaming for them to get out, _get out_ , but Gabriel did not dare move from his Father’s presence. The Lord was a pillar of blue fire behind them, cold enough to sear their wings, and His anger was a palpable thing, slamming over the Archangels in waves. Michael managed to drag Sammael to the ground, bending over him and spreading his thousand wings, sheltering his brother from the worst of God’s wrath.

They were going to die.

Gabriel could all too easily see how this was going to end. Their Father’s rage would intensify until the entire chamber was a blazing inferno. Raphael and Gabriel would be cremated instantly, their grace _maybe_ leaving a smudged shadow in their thrones. Michael, the oldest, the strongest, the greatest, would outlive them by a few seconds before even he was destroyed. That would then leave Sammael unprotected before God. The full force of His wrath would shred Sammael’s grace, fill him with anger and blast him into dust. They would all die today, and four of the Seraphim would be promoted to their thrones. Maybe Cariel would take Gabriel’s spot, or cheerful Barachiel. Gabriel hoped Zachariah would be overlooked for the promotion. Zachariah didn’t need any more power.

Far to Gabriel’s right, Raphael couldn’t stifle a whimper. He must have reached the same conclusion. Gabriel hugged his wings tighter around himself and wished that he could reach out for Raphael, so he did not have to die alone. There was nothing to do now but wait for the inevitable.

But it wasn’t _fair_! The rebellious thought flooded up in Gabriel’s mind, a sentiment Gabriel had often heard from the humans he watched over. _Sammael_ was the only one finding fault with God’s decree. Gabriel _liked_ the humans. They were crude, yes, but they were also just babies, like the Seraphim had once been, the Angels, the Cherubim. He _wanted_ to help them grow, to teach them about Heaven and their Father. Gabriel didn’t have any problems bending his knee to their curious little lives. Why should he be killed because _Sammael_ was upset?

He shouldn’t be. He _wouldn’t_ be. Their Father was many things—terrifying, omnipotent, omniscient—but He wasn’t unjust. His wrath was not meant for Gabriel, not this time. If any of them died today, it would only be Sammael. Maybe Michael, if he continued to protect his partner. Gabriel was just a bystander. God was not so crude with His power. He would not accidentally smite Gabriel while aiming for Sammael, and He would not intentionally smite Gabriel for Sammael’s impertinence. Slowly, Gabriel began to uncurl his wings, a tendril of relief spreading through his grace. This would not be his end. He would live to see Cariel again, his choir, his Earth. If only he could convince Sammael to apologize before it was too late…

God’s presence _loomed_ behind Gabriel, blue fire licking down the arms of his throne. Gabriel yelped and yanked himself back in, feeling the familiar weight of his Father’s attention solely on _him_. On the floor, Michael lifted his head to stare, and he could make out Sammael’s bright gaze under the shadow of Michael’s wings.

_You calmed yourself._

The fire went out. The cold dispersed. A tickle of his Father’s amusement touched Gabriel between his wings. Gabriel nearly wept in relief.

_In the face of My wrath, you alone found a center. Your brothers cowered and feared Me. Why did you not?_

“I…” Gabriel’s voice was weak, tremulous. His Father stroked over his wings, soothing the pain from His cold rage. “I just… thought it through.”

Puzzlement from his brothers. Gabriel ducked his head beneath their gazes, embarrassed to be singled out.

One of Michael’s wings, stiff and flaking from the direct exposure to God, stretched across the distance between them, brushing against Gabriel’s grace with a flash of peace and gratitude. Michael was thanking him for distracting their Father and calming His rage. Bolstered by this encouragement, Gabriel straightened and tried to explain himself.

“I applied logic to the situation. It’s something… something humans do. Father was furious, but not at _me_. Father is just and good. Therefore, Father would not punish me, accidentally or on purpose, when I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was safe in His presence, and logically, had nothing to fear.”

_Logical thinking. A trick of humanity. See how Gabriel listened to them, learned from them. He bowed to their superior knowledge and used it to better himself._

“He didn’t bow to anyone!” Sammael pushed out from under Michael’s wings, radiating his own cold fury. “He entertained himself with human gossip, nothing more. Don’t try to twist this to Your purposes. In _no way_ are humans superior to angels, to my brothers!”

Gabriel had idolized Sammael ever since he first opened his eyes and beheld him. Sammael had taught Gabriel all he knew about flying and spells and practically _everything_ , but right now, Gabriel was cringing. _How can he be so **stupid**?_

_Michael._

God’s rumbling voice was directed at His oldest now. Michael rose to his feet behind Sammael and dipped in a very low, contrite bow, nearly pressing his chest to the floor. “Yes, Father?”

_You will escort your brother out. Return when you have finished._

“Yes, Father.”

Michael seized Sammael’s arms, dragging him away from the thrones. Sammael protested, but Michael was stronger and fueled by a command from God. He all but threw Sammael out of the doors, slamming them in Sammael’s face.

Gabriel looked over at Raphael, meeting his partner’s gaze. Neither said anything as Michael returned, giving God a stiff bow before taking his seat.

_Let us continue._


	14. Sammael's Banishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the meeting is over, the Archangels have to face Sammael outside the Throne Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this is _Sammael's_ banishment, not Lucifer's! There is still so much more to happen!

### Sammael’s Banishment

Released from the Throne Room and the disastrous audience with their Father, the first thing Gabriel and Raphael did was turn to Michael, grabbing at him, tucking themselves against his sides. Gabriel felt like a fledgling again, scared of the dark unknown of the Void. Michael had never let them down then, and he did not let them down now. He swept his wings in, wrapping his brothers in a warm embrace. Michael soothed them with his grace, but Gabriel could pick out a thread of fatigue he had not noticed before.

“Michael…”

“Hush, Little One.” One of Michael’s wings swept along Gabriel’s face. The younger angel shivered at the feel of blisters raised from their Father’s display of wrath, and Michael withdrew the injured wing. “We have been given our orders. We must obey Father, without question. He is Right and Good. It is not for us to doubt.”

Michael’s voice was wooden, devoid of emotion or energy. Gabriel reached up to press his hand against Michael’s cheek, trying desperately to get something other than resignation from his oldest brother.

“But it _is_.” Sammael strode toward the trio, his grace blazing around him. “Do you know what humans call one who blindly follows orders? _Stupid._ “

“ _Humans_ are not angels.” Michael released Gabriel and Raphael, stepping forward to meet Sammael. “We do not live by the same rules.”

“You _threw me out_.” Sammael lashed forward with his wings, catching Gabriel and Raphael and shoving them aside. Clearly, he wanted this between himself and Michael alone.

“You were disrespecting Father. Humiliating us. Humiliating _me_!” Michael’s words were a low thrum, a hissing warning rising in his grace.

“I was standing up for our brothers. Defending them. Doing _your_ duty!”

“My duty is to obey Father, without question! I am a good son!”

“You are a simpering sycophant!”

“ _You_ are a child!” Michael drew himself up to his full height, towering over Sammael, his massive wings spread to add bulk to his form. “Father has ordered us to serve the humans-”

“Humans are filth!”

Michael’s sword flashed in his hand and his wings twisted, the razor sharp of his feathers turning out offensively, shifting from soft feathers to shining steel. Gabriel cringed away from his brother’s battle-form. Was this really happening? Was this the end of peace? Was _genuine_ war coming to Heaven?

“You will go to Earth,” Michael said, his voice booming with command. He was the Prince of Heaven now, not Gabriel’s loving big brother. “You will take a human vessel. And you will not return to Heaven without a direct summons until I feel you have learned your place.” Michael swept his sword forward, the point touching Sammael’s throat, just above the core of his grace. One shove here would instantly kill Sammael. “Do I make myself clear?”

Sammael looked down the length of Michael’s sword, then up at his brother’s face. “You’re banishing me from Heaven?”

“Yes.” The one word rang with authority, demanding obedience. Sammael looked as if he were about to protest, but he thought better of it as Michael shifted his weight for a strike. Sammael’s wings snapped out, and he was gone. Gabriel could dimly feel his grace falling to Earth.

Michael sheathed his sword but did not relax. “Gabriel.”

“Yes sir.” Gabriel snapped to attention at Michael’s side, not wanting to risk pushing Michael off the edge he was obviously balanced on with anything less than total respect.

“Deliver a message to all of the Seraphim. We will hold an audience in the Throne Room when the sun has reached its zenith, to discuss the changes that will be coming to Heaven. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Yes sir.” Gabriel readied his wings to fly, but Michael stopped him with a lifted hand.

“Gabriel, Raphael: Do not speak of what has just happened with Sammael. Heaven is about to completely change. Anything less than a perfectly united front from the four of us could frighten our younger brothers. They don’t need to know about Sammael’s current temper tantrum.”

Gabriel nodded his understanding, taking to the air as Michael called out Raphael’s name, giving his brother his own set of orders.

The hardest part about spreading a message to all the Seraphim was simply tracking them all down. Gabriel saved Cariel for last, practically staggering into his office to find his second. Cariel was at his side immediately, an arm slipping around his back to offer him support. “Gabriel! You look terrible! What happened!? Did Father-”

Gabriel cut Cariel off with two fingers pressed over his mouth. He waved his hand to close the door behind them, then another wave of grace blacked out the windows so no brother could see in without his express permission. Only then did he let himself crumble, sinking his face into Cariel’s shoulder. Cariel was his second, his support. Cariel alone of the younger angels was allowed to see Gabriel like this.

Cariel wisely said nothing more. He just shifted his hold on Gabriel to guide the older angel into his embrace, keeping him steady while Gabriel struggled with his composure.

Gabriel did not have the luxury of time on his side. Sooner than he’d like, he drew back from Cariel’s embrace, scrubbing his hands over his face. “There is to be an assembly of the Seraphim in the Throne Room at midday.”

“With Father?” Cariel asked, stepping back to give Gabriel space.

Gabriel shook his head. “With us, the Archangels. All choirs together.” Gabriel had alerted Sammael’s choir, though he wasn’t entirely sure what would happen to his angels while Sammael was banished to Earth. “I need… Cariel, I need reports on all the vessels taken by angels. I want to know who has had the most and least success with humans, what tactics work best to keep vessels from suffering harm after our use—or from suffering worship. Not just our choir; I need statistics on everyone. Who has had the most success interacting with our human brothers?”

Cariel jumped into action, rifling through Gabriel’s papers, snapping his fingers to summon Angels or Cherubim to fetch information from this garrison or that. Gabriel sank into his seat as Cariel worked, massaging his forehead with his fingers.

“Gabriel?”

The Archangel looked up as Cariel addressed him again, his dark eyes concerned as he studied his choirmaster across the desk. “Yes, Cariel?”

“What happened?”

Gabriel closed his eyes and winced, shaking his head. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” The lie twisted in Gabriel’s chest, a knot of shame at being dishonest with Cariel, who had never done anything to earn deceit.

Cariel narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. Gabriel forced himself to open his eyes again and smile as brightly as he could at his second. “Really, Cariel, it’s fine. I’m just exhausted. Spent all morning in the presence of God with Raphael right there. Had to keep holding myself in check!” More lies, more guilt, more of Gabriel’s false smile.

“Father’s unhappy,” Cariel stated. “And Raphael was blaming you?”

“Something like that,” Gabriel said, waving his hand. “It’ll all blow over. Now come on, show me what you have already. Let’s pull this information together before the meeting.”


	15. Naomi's Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomi has plans for improving Heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 9x04, this fic is still canon-compliant. Woo!

### Naomi’s Proposal

“Archangel Gabriel? Do you have a few minutes?”

Naomi, one of Michael’s brightest Seraphim, had swooped out of the sky to match flights with Gabriel. Gabriel had not seen her outside the regular meetings with all the Seraphim of the Host since her trial alongside Cariel, but like Cariel, her clipped wings had made a full recovery and she had returned to the skies. Now she was gliding just below and behind the Archangel, deferring to his superior position.

Gabriel didn’t care much for Naomi, especially not after how she had treated Cariel when he had been trying to defend her, but his minor irritation was no reason to ignore her request. He gave her a nod and gestured to the ground. “Shall we land?”

The two angels touched down in a field full of flowers. Gabriel’s wings stirred the blossoms as he folded them closer but he didn’t tuck them entirely away. As the smallest Archangel, he was in the habit of keeping his wings slightly spread so he looked more impressive and couldn’t ever be mistaken for a Seraph. “How can I help you, Naomi?”

Naomi fluttered her own wings, tucking them primly behind her. In her hands, she was holding a thick report. “I was just headed from your tower, actually. Cariel had suggested I make an appointment with you, but he claimed to not know your schedule.” The twist to Naomi’s expression plainly spoke of how little she thought of angels who couldn’t keep tabs on their bosses.

“Oh?” Already that was a warning flag for Gabriel. While it was true that he didn’t have a set schedule most of the time, Gabriel did keep Cariel up-to-date (as much as he could) with where he was and when. If Cariel set an appointment for him with another angel, Gabriel made a point of meeting it unless summoned by a higher power. Cariel claiming to not know his schedule could only mean that Cariel didn’t think Gabriel would want to meet with the angel in question. “Well, I do keep rather erratic hours, between Heaven and Earth.” Gabriel fluffed an excuse for his second, so Cariel didn’t come across as incompetent. “You can’t really blame him for being unsure.”

“That is actually one of my points.” Naomi snapped out the report to Gabriel, her head held high, arms straight. “I’d like you to take a look at this proposal. In it, I’ve drafted some possibilities for a reorganization of responsibilities in Heaven.”

“Isn’t this something you should be taking to Michael?” Gabriel asked, though he accepted the report from Naomi, flipping through it and skimming a few pages. “He _is_ in charge of Heaven, after all, and your choirmaster.”

“Ordinarily, yes,” Naomi agreed. “However, I think you’ll agree that my propositions would affect you far more than him, so I thought it best to get you onboard before presenting it to Michael.”

Gabriel glanced over the top of the report at the younger angel before focusing more intently on what he was reading. “This is… explaining how to _replace_ me?”

“Not as an Archangel!” Naomi was quick to reassure Gabriel, one slender hand pressing against his forearm. “Or as a choirmaster! However, it has been noticed that those are not your only tasks.”

“You want to replace me as Messenger.” Gabriel looked coolly at Naomi again, then pointedly at her hand on his arm. After a moment, she withdrew it. “You think I’m incompetent?”

“I didn’t say that!” Naomi shook her head in firm denial.

“This report says otherwise. ‘Increased volume of messages,’ ‘visible fatigue,’ and ‘confidentiality concerns’” Gabriel frowned as he met the Seraph’s eyes. “There have been confidentiality concerns?”

“There _could_ be,” Naomi stressed. “You are one very powerful angel, dealing with very important information. You’re an absolute storehouse of Heaven’s secrets. What is preventing you from using that information for your own good? Or telling it to people who shouldn’t know?”

“My own moral compass?” Gabriel stretched his wings wider, snapping the report shut. “Naomi, I am insulted that you think so little of me. Father Himself appointed me to this task, and for _billions_ of years, I have performed my duties flawlessly.”

“Have you?” Naomi folded her arms and cocked her head to the side, daring to challenge an Archangel. “Have you really, Gabriel? The last time you were sent to give a whole-Host message, you were absolutely exhausted by the time you reached _me_ , and I know for a fact you addressed Michael’s choir first and circled clockwise to end at your own. If you were worn out before you even finished one choir, how can you possibly be expected to serve the entire Host?”

“Last time?” Gabriel remembered that last time. Last time had been immediately after Michael had banished Sammael, an event still kept secret from the younger angels. Last time, Gabriel had cowered in the presence of God’s wrath and watched his beloved brothers turn on each other before being asked to play his role as Messenger. “ _Last time_ , my weariness came from exterior sources, and not from delivering the message. _Despite_ my fatigue—from an extended session in the presence of God our Father, mind you—I still managed to deliver the required message to all hundred and twenty Seraphim, scattered throughout the universe, in a timely manner. So don’t tell me that I’m slacking because I looked _tired_!”

“Regardless, having only one angelic Messenger isn’t a very wise decision. What if something happens to you? What if your ‘erratic hours’ means you aren’t found when you’re needed? What if you forgot a message, or deliberately chose not to deliver it?” Naomi gestured to the proposal in Gabriel’s hands. “If you continue to read, you see that I suggest at _least_ an entire garrison to work together as the _Messengers_ of Heaven, serving to check and balance each other. Perhaps even an entire cluster of garrisons, with each being tasked to separate areas of delivery. If the workload is spread, there is a smaller chance for failure.”

“You said Michael hasn’t seen this yet?” Gabriel shook the proposal at Naomi.

“Not yet, but he constantly encourages us to devise ways to make Heaven more efficient and-”

“Let me spare you the embarrassment of his rejection,” Gabriel interrupted. “No. I won’t go along with this ridiculous scheme. I am the Messenger of Heaven, and I am _good_ at it. Until Father Himself repeals my appointment, I will continue to _be_ Heaven’s Messenger.” Gabriel snapped his wings out, not even bothering to conceal his glare at the younger angel. “Go back to your own duties, and stop trying to take mine.” He leapt back into the air, willing Naomi to go her own way if she knew what was good for her.

Cariel glanced up from a folder as Gabriel stormed into his office. “Someone’s in a temper… is that Naomi’s report?”

“You saw this?” Gabriel flung the report onto his desk. “And you let her get away with it?”

“She tried to get me to present it to you for her.” Cariel filed the folder back in a cabinet and crossed to Gabriel’s desk, picking up the report between thumb and forefinger like it was something disgusting. “Shall I burn it for you?”

“I want to.” Gabriel flung out his hand at the report, incinerating it instantly with a concentrated bolt of his grace. “At least you had the sense to say no.”

“I told her that if she wanted to try to take a task appointed by God away from an Archangel, she at least needed to have the nerve to propose it face-to-face.” Cariel dropped the corner he had been left holding onto the small pile of ash and miracled it away with a wave of his hand. “And then I told her that you would be unavailable for a face-to-face conversation for the foreseeable future, so sorry.”

“And then she ran into me coming back here,” Gabriel shook his head. “If she hadn’t been your partner, Cariel, I might have left her with more than just a glare.”

“Oh, don’t spare her on my account next time.” Cariel turned back to his file drawers, pulling a new one open. “After she threw me under the cart over the Mesopotamia incident, I’d be more than happy to see you roast her wings. Not that I’d ever stoop so low as to use my boss as a tool for petty revenge…”

Gabriel laughed, clapping Cariel’s shoulder. “You’re a good angel, Cariel. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Just doing my job.” Cariel smiled back at Gabriel. “Why don’t you go to Earth and let out your frustrations? I believe Barachiel’s getting ready to trigger a volcano. Your help is always appreciated at such events.”

“Like I said, exactly what I need!” Gabriel loved volcanic events; they were rare chances for him to truly indulge in his element. Michael, Sammael, and Raphael could easily wrap themselves in earth, water, and air respectively, but for Gabriel to revel in fire, he had to make sure everything was carefully controlled so as not to harm humans any more than was permitted. Every volcanic eruption had to be planned thousands of years in advance, so as not to be influenced by what the humans chose to do, and they were never long enough for Gabriel’s liking. Short jaunts into the hearts of an active volcano were just enough to satisfy the itch he had for _more_ , and all he could permit himself. If Barachiel was preparing for an eruption, Gabriel would absolutely be there. He could burn away his lingering frustration and maybe even manage to bury the doubts Naomi had awoken within him. Was he really such a horrible Messenger? Did Naomi have a leg to stand on? Would Michael side with her?

“Oh, and Gabriel?” Cariel turned away from his filing to look at the Archangel seriously. “If Father was unhappy with your service as His Messenger, He would tell you directly, not try to get Naomi to steal your job. As long as He wants you as His Messenger, Michael will side with Him and Naomi will gain no traction.”

Gabriel smiled, stretching out a wing to brush against Cariel’s grace. “Always _exactly_ what I need.”


	16. Sunday Dinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday's chapter was short, so here's a longer one! Have an infamous "Sunday Dinner" of Heaven, and watch it all fall apart...

### Sunday Dinners

Sammael was the first angel to receive the latest summons and the last to arrive. He threw open the doors to the Throne Room and strode past the gathered Seraphim, his head held high. Gabriel glanced over at Michael, but his eldest brother’s grace, wrapped tightly around him like battle armor, gave nothing away.

One hundred and fifty-eight years. One hundred and fifty-eight _years_ had passed since Michael banished Sammael to Earth. One hundred and fifty-eight years as the Archangels pretended his exile was voluntary, as the Seraphim orchestrated contact with humanity, as Gabriel kept a watchful eye on Sammael (or at least pretended to). One hundred and fifty-eight long years.

The Seraphim gathered with the Archangels regularly, Sammael included, to discuss the changes in Heaven and on Earth as a full-Host operation. Michael never failed to extend a frosty invitation to Sammael, through Gabriel, and Sammael never failed to respond with some variant of “bite me,” but Sammael also always showed up. _Can’t let Michael lose precious face in front of our brothers,_ Sammael had sneered once, when Gabriel asked him why he bothered.

Gabriel hated it. He hated carrying messages between his brothers, usually laced with anger and hurt. Sammael felt betrayed by Michael’s exiling him, but Gabriel knew that Michael felt equally betrayed by Sammael’s petty behavior. Michael and Sammael had barely exchanged ten words face to face in the past century. If they would only just _talk_ with each other, Gabriel was sure this could all be resolved. The two brothers, once the most perfect partnership in all of Heaven, barely spared a glance at each other as Sammael sauntered up to his throne, his movements as sinuous as an Earthly serpent. Sammael’s Seraphim watched him with hungry eyes, and Gabriel clenched his fists in his lap.

Technically, Sammael’s Seraphim were managed by the remaining three choirs “while Sammael attends to God’s will on Earth,” but Gabriel knew many of them slipped off to Earth to visit with their true choirmaster, ever loyal to Sammael. Michael had instructed Gabriel to not dissuade them unless they seemed about to do something rash. He was under orders to simply watch their meetings unnoticed and report back to Michael. They never seemed to talk about anything of any importance, and Gabriel often slipped off to give them their privacy. He would have hated being spied on whenever he met with Cariel, Zachariah, or Barachiel. He hated spying on Sammael alone as it was. Often, Sammael would hide from Gabriel, and Gabriel wouldn’t even put in an effort to find him. His brother deserved his solitude. Gabriel wasn’t a jailor.

Sammael flung himself into his throne with a haphazard sprawl of grace. His wings curled lazily around the back, and he rested his chin in one hand propped on the arm. With each of these “Sunday Dinners,” as some of the Seraphim had taken to calling the meetings, Sammael grew more and more disrespectful and irreverent. Michael responded by growing colder, his grace a solid defense around his spirit. Raphael grew quieter, seeking revelation in solitude almost daily now, watching everything and almost never speaking.

Gabriel found himself developing an increasingly manic energy, hot flares in his core that kept him from sitting still for long. Even now, he could feel unneeded energy cresting within him, battering at his mental walls, reacting to the tension between Michael and Sammael. Gabriel stretched his wings as high as he could, willing that energy to dissipate. When that didn’t even take the edge off, Gabriel swept his wings forward, brushing against the nearest Seraphim and sending a crackling wave of grace over his younger brothers. The Seraphim straightened and returned his grace with pulses of their own, fond gratitude to the Archangel who had just blessed them with his power. Gabriel forced his emotions to stay buried within him and not reflected in his grace or on his face, so they wouldn’t realize his blessing had been less genuine goodwill and more a desperate need to do _something_ to vent.

Raphael’s grace was practically vibrating with his silent disapproval of Gabriel’s fidgeting, but Michael’s unmovable presence separated the twins. The oldest angel swept his wings out.

“Be seated.”

The Seraphim waited until all four Archangels had taken their thrones before bending their knees and sitting or kneeling before them. Joshua and several others of Michael’s Cherubim entered, distributing manna among Heaven’s most powerful angels. Very few took note of the Cherubim.

Gabriel hadn’t even had time to suggest food to God before He had begun creating manna. As soon as the Host started accepting mouths in their forms, God offered them something to eat. Angels did not need sustenance, so manna was not food in the physical sense. It was breadlike, sweet and soft, nourishing angelic grace and speeding recovery of any injury or drain. No angel deprived of manna would starve, but the treat was a gentle reminder that their Father was still with them, loving them.

Gabriel knew Michael had specifically requested the distribution of manna at each of these meetings. He admired his brother’s foresight; the manna could soothe feathers ruffled by Sammael’s disdain for all things Heavenly and simultaneously reassure the Seraphim that all was well, that the Archangels had a handle on the situation.

Sammael pushed Joshua away with one of his largest wings, not even sparing a glance for the Cherub. Gabriel responded by wrapping his own wings around the younger angel, drawing him near and murmuring gratitude as he offered the gift of manna. “Ignore Sammael. He’s spending so much time on Earth, he’s practically gone native and is forgetting his manners. I’m sure he’ll apologize when he remembers himself.” The lie slipped easily from Gabriel’s lips, and the twist of shame he felt was barely noticeable this time. The first time Gabriel had lied about Sammael, to Cariel, he had felt nearly physically ill with guilt. Now, lying was just another part of Gabriel’s daily life. As Gabriel grew more practiced at covering for his brother, he grew numb to the disgrace of spreading falsehoods. Sammael was not built to apologize, not to God, not to Michael, and certainly not to a Cherub. His rudeness had nothing to do with his time on Earth either. Gabriel technically had spent more time mingling with humanity than Sammael had, and his manners hadn’t suffered.

Much.

“The human beings are receptive to our stories,” Cariel was reporting his successes to Michael. Though most of his garrisons stayed in Heaven to help the running of Gabriel’s choir, the brief research Gabriel and Cariel had done over a century and a half ago had shown that one of Cariel’s garrisons, led by a Dominion named Nuriel, was exceptionally adept at slipping in and out of human lives. That garrison had been tasked as Heaven’s storytellers, adapting existing myths and legends into ones involving Heaven and its angels. “The mythos we agreed upon in our first meeting is firmly rooted in the current generation, and the people are receptive to the idea of monotheism.”

“The pagans, on the other hand, have not been so excited about our increased presence.” Zachariah stood to take over the report from Cariel, his grace flickering in delight. Zachariah’s garrisons were the front line for battles on Earth, and Zachariah was always glad for a chance to smite wrongdoers. Gabriel preached tolerance whenever possible, but many battles had already broken out between angels and the pagan gods who felt they were intruding on their territory. Pain and injury were becoming all too common among angels who walked the Earth, but the pagan gods held little serious threat to the warriors of Heaven. They could attempt to use humans as pawns, perhaps, but some of Sammael's angels had taken it upon themselves to teach strong and powerful humans how to hunt the supernatural beings, just in case there was ever a situation where angels could not step in to help them. Tumael and Tarel, a pair of Sammael’s Seraphim, had dedicated all of their garrisons to this cause.

One of Sammael’s wings prodded against Gabriel’s insistently. The younger Archangel turned slightly to acknowledge his brother, flexing his own wings to try to bleed off some of his energy build-up. Sammael was leaning over the left arm of his throne now, head turned toward Gabriel.

_This is boring._

At least Sammael had the sense to keep his whisper between their minds only, a private broadcast the others couldn’t listen in on. Gabriel gave a tiny shake of his head, lifting one of his smaller wings to request silence. Naomi had taken the floor now and was giving her report. They were meant to be paying attention.

 _Come on…_ Sammael’s wings trailed down Gabriel’s back, making him shiver and twitch away. _Let’s fly. I can tell you don’t want to be here. You’re **crackling**. How are you still sitting still?_ Sammael’s voice was a silky whisper in Gabriel’s mind, the promise of joy, of release, of freedom.

Gabriel shook his head again, sitting up straighter. His wings flexed slowly again, itching to take to the sky. It was agony, trying to keep his moments small so as not to be a distraction. Naomi. Listen to Naomi.

“…It is clear that one alone isn’t satisfactory…”

_Fly with me, little brother._

Sammael’s wings were brushing against Gabriel, teasing little caresses tracing the lines of his form, the curves of his own wings, bringing to mind all of the times the two of them spent together in human vessels on Earth, touching each other with more than wings.

Sammael was silent but not subtle. A few of the Seraphim were watching the Archangels instead of Naomi, their heads tilted to the side in curiosity. Cariel’s sharp gaze, Azazel’s golden glow, Alastair’s little smirk… Gabriel gave a sharp little shake of his head as he felt their attention on him. _Stop that,_ he answered Sammael, trying to nudge his wings away with careful little presses of his own. _Sit still. We have a job to do._

_How can you stand this? Michael is being a pompous ass, and Raphael is just as smug. It must be grating for you, to be so contained, so restrained by them. You hate following their orders. I know you do. You want to be free to do whatever you please again. You want things to change back to how they were._

_Stop that,_ Gabriel repeated, reaching out to press a piece of manna between Sammael’s lips. _Eat, and sit still. Please. Father has given us this task. I will fly with you after we’re done here, but not before._

Sammael swallowed the manna and leaned away from Gabriel, stretching and flapping his wings deliberately loud. Naomi lost her focus and had to ask Michael to repeat his question, her own wings fluttering in embarrassment.

“I asked-”

“Are we going to discuss anything of actual _importance_?” Sammael snapped his wings shut and stood, cutting off Michael. “Our plan with the humans is going, surprise surprise, according to plan. Our Messenger should be replaced with a corps of Angels, headed by dear Naomi, despite having never once failed to deliver his messages in a timely fashion. Zachariah thinks the vessel requirement should be scrapped. Azazel would see all the pagan gods burned from the Earth. Is there anything we _haven’t_ discussed a thousand times over, such as leaving the humans to their own fates, or is this all the same colossal waste of time it has been for the past century and a half?”

The Seraphim fell completely silent, with those in the front pushing away from the thrones. Michael slowly rose to his own feet, his gaze firmly fixed on the far wall of the Throne Room.

“Sammael.” Michael waited for his brother’s attention to flick in his direction before speaking again. “Sit down, and _hold your tongue_.”

“I don’t-” Sammael barely started forming a protest before Michael swept one of his primary wings back, throwing Sammael into his throne. Disbelief rippled through the gathered Seraphim—Michael had _struck_ Sammael! That had not been a blow thrown in jest, sport, or training. One hundred and fifty-eight years of forced normalcy had just been overturned by one violent action.

Gabriel and Raphael said nothing. They sat unmoving, hands clasped, wings folded, mirrored discomfort in their graces. This was not the first time Michael and Sammael had turned violently on each other. In over a century of attempting to bridge the divide that had formed, the twins had born witness to their brothers exchanging blows more than once, buffeting each other with wings and fists and hateful words. Sammael often launched the first volleys, while Michael fought only to subdue, but the pair were still more violent together than any other angels, including the quarrelsome twins.

This was, however, the first time any of their younger brothers witnessed blatant evidence of the hostility that had so far remained hidden from the Host, and it felt like a failure. It was _also_ , Gabriel realized with dawning horror, the first time Sammael did not capitulate to his older brother's authority. Gabriel watched a red thread stretch out through Sammael's grace, thinner and thinner until it _snapped_ , a cascade of crimson drops, shimmering like blood through Sammael's wings. It might have been beautiful, had it not been combined with an unheavenly _roar_ as Sammael seized Michael's wing in both hands, yanking him back and _twisting_.

The crack of delicate wing bones breaking echoed through the room, accompanied by Michael's scream of pain. The oldest angel fell to one knee, yanking his wings away from Sammael. Raphael leapt to his side, healing grace already gathering in his hands. Gabriel flew to Sammael, pulling him back even as his brother reached for another wing. “Sammael, Sammael, stop it!”

“You are not our Father!” Sammael bellowed at Michael. “You have _no_ authority over me! I will not bow to your orders!”

“You do not bow to His!” Michael shouted back, using Raphael to push himself to his feet. The younger Archangel followed behind, trying to mend the wing hanging limply from Michael's back. “You do not think of anyone but yourself-”

“I think of my brothers!” Sammael hissed, sweeping one hand out to indicate the gathered Seraphim. “I speak for our siblings, who water the Earth with spilled grace, injured and aching because of _humans_. Soiled, greedy children who take and destroy and leave nothing good!”

“They are our Father's greatest creation!”

“They are _monsters_ , clinging to shadow and death!” Sammael wrenched out of Gabriel's grasp, taking a threatening step toward Michael. “What will you say when they turn against _us_? What will you do when a brother falls, _dies_ , at _their_ hands? Will you still defend them? Are _their_ pathetic little lives worth more than one of ours?”

“You must have _faith_ , brother. Faith in our Father, faith in His plan!”

“I must have faith in my brothers!” Sammael answered. “ _These_ brothers, these true sons of our Lord God.” He gestured to the gathered Seraphim again. Some of them were nodding, agreeing with Sammael's words. Not all of the nodders were from Sammael's choir.

Michael was not one of them.

“Sammael, if you do not-”

“What would you do, Michael? Banish me to Earth? You’ve already did that one.” Sammael's wings glinted dangerously as he spread them. “Just try to do it again!”

The second greatest angel took to the air, blowing open the doors to the Throne Room and making his escape. Michael gave chase, not as fast with such a serious wing injury. Raphael called his name and followed, for once acting as Heaven's Healer.

That left Gabriel alone before the thrones of Heaven, with six score of Seraphim slowly turning back to him, their grace pleading for guidance and revelation.

And Gabriel had been wishing Michael and Sammael would talk more...

Manic energy pulsed within Gabriel, pressing at his throat, begging him to just laugh and let it out. Damn his brothers for leaving him with this mess! He spread his wings, flapping once to demand attention as much as to release some of the pressure building within him, and forced himself to fill his grace with peace and calm, radiating it at his brothers.

“Continue your tasks as previously assigned.” Gabriel spread his wings again, arching them around the younger angels, encouraging them into his embrace. “Do not… do not speak of these events to the others. It would only distress them to know of the recent disturbance.”

“ _Disturbance_!?” Naomi's wings were visibly ruffled, and she puffed them up further as she pressed into Gabriel's overheated grace. “They were at each other's _wings_! This was no mere disturbance!”

“It's true, then? Sammael had been banished?” Tumael clutched at Gabriel's wing, beseeching his older brother to offer an explanation.

“Sammael _broke Michael's wing_!” Barachiel countered, his big eyes made even wider with distress.

“This wasn't the first time they've fought.” Cariel's sharp gaze turned to Gabriel, speaking as if they were the only two in the room. “Nor will it be the last. What's going on with our brothers?”

Beside him, Marmoniel and Zachariah were nodding, echoing him. It was contagious, spreading through the Seraphim until they were asking Gabriel the same question.

“ _What is going on!?_ “

That desperate laughter pushed against Gabriel's throat again, and he could feel his grace ignite with the fire that forever burned at his core. As Gabriel struggled to control himself, to find words that would neither damn nor condone his brothers, Alastair, one of the younger Seraphim, spoke up, his reedy voice arching above the gathered angels.

“Has our Father forsaken us?”

Laughter turned into rage, a spiderweb of red stretching through Gabriel's wings much like it had through Sammael's earlier. Gabriel yanked them up and flared his grace at his brothers. “We are not forsaken. Do not doubt our Father! Why are you still asking questions? You were given your orders. Go.”

When the Seraphim did not immediately move, Gabriel beat the air with his wings and bellowed at them: “ _GO!_ “

The Throne Room emptied quickly, one hundred and nineteen Seraphim bolting for the exit. Only one remained, watching as Gabriel's wings trembled, then collapsed, and he buried his face in his hands.

“How long have they been fighting?” Cariel asked quietly, slipping up alongside his choirmaster and pulling Gabriel into his arms.

“One hundred and fifty-nine years, next month,” Gabriel mumbled, letting Cariel hold him. “I'm just so _tired_.”

“Shh,” Cariel murmured, stroking Gabriel's wings. “It's not your secret anymore. I can help.”

“What could _you_ do?” Gabriel demanded, pulling away from Cariel and pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead. “No, we've been handling this ourselves. We'll continue to handle this. Just… just convince the other Seraphim that we know how to deal with Sammael when he's in a mood like this.”

“Has he broken Michael's wing before?” Cariel asked. “Has he ever broken _your_ wings? Has he ever hurt you?”

“No.” Gabriel turned back to Cariel, taking his shoulders in his hands and meeting his eyes. This, at least, didn't have to be a lie. “Sammael has never hurt me, _never_ , and this is the first time he's really hurt Michael.” First time he did something Raphael couldn’t immediately heal, at least. “We're handling this, Cariel. _I'll_ handle this. I'm going to go to Earth to talk with Sammael. It may take me a few days to calm him down. Can I trust you to run things in my absence?”

“No,” Cariel answered. “Because I'm going with you.”

“Absolutely not.” Gabriel gave Cariel a stern look. “This is Archangel business. Raphael will tend to Michael, and I will calm Sammael. I need you to stay here, for me, Cariel. Don't make me order you.”

Cariel opened his mouth, then reluctantly shut it, his eyes narrowed unhappily. “ _Fine_. But I want frequent updates.”

“You'll have them.” Gabriel leaned in to touch their foreheads together. “Thank you, Cariel. At least I can trust my choir won't be falling apart around my ears.”

“You don't have ears,” Cariel pointed out.

“Yet.”


	17. Welcome to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel looks for Sammael on Earth and finds the beginnings of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sammael's realm here is based off a real place, a cave in Turkey. It's in the ancient city of Hierapolis, if you want to google it for yourself. :)
> 
> There IS gender-swapped Gabriel in this chapter and the next. Gabriel's life spans billions of years. It's a bit silly to think he _only_ took male vessels. He has a female vessel in this bit, so he calls himself by female pronouns. I hope it doesn't confuse you too much!
> 
> There is also a much less smutty sex scene at the end of this chapter, so close your eyes when they start kissing if that's not your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!

### Welcome to Hell

Gabriel all but exploded out of Heaven, spreading his grace wide to blanket the entire Earth, everywhere and nowhere all at once. He yanked himself back together in front of a young woman with braided red curls and an infectious grin, reaching out to tweak her nose. “Sorcha! Hello, gorgeous!” These rough transitions, folding himself between planes, were brutal on his grace. They ripped huge chunks of energy from his grace, enough to take him down to a much more normal level. Gabriel didn’t feel ready to burst at the seams right now, and with any luck, he’d have a few days before he had to drain himself again.

Sorcha, the woman in front of him, laughed and flung her arms around Gabriel, kissing his cheek. Of all his vessels so far, Sorcha was definitely his favorite. She treated him like any other human, completely ignoring the fact that his true form was created solely of light and power and was in no way substantial enough to endure a hug or a kiss. He solidified his grace where her arms contacted him, so she couldn’t fall through him, and hugged her back. “Gabriel! It’s been far too long!”

Over the centuries, Gabriel had insinuated himself into Vindonnus’ family line as a sort of divine protector, a guardian spirit they could call upon whenever they were in danger. In exchange, he asked that they be prepared to accept him into their forms whenever he needed them. As the generations increased, many of the humans developed lower tolerances to Gabriel’s direct presence, requiring him to speak with them in dreams or visions only, but every five generations or so, one cropped up who could stand in Gabriel’s presence as easily as Vindonnus himself once had.

Sorcha was one of those rare few vessels that the angels had taken to calling their “true” vessels. Gabriel had met her before she was even born. Her mother had prayed to him when she was pregnant, asking for his blessing on her child. Gabriel had watched over her as often as he could, easing her pains and ensuring her husband could always provide for her. He’d reach inside her mother whenever Sorcha was being exceptionally obstinate, calming the growing child and letting her mother rest.

Eventually, Sorcha had been born, and she had recognized Gabriel standing vigil over her crib before she even recognized her own father. She prayed often to Gabriel, and called him her friend. Gabriel loved to slip inside Sorcha’s skin and take her flying. He had found a way to cradle her soul close to the exterior of his grace, so she could be aware of the wind in her face, could feel the beat of his wings as they soared above the ocean. Sorcha _loved_ to soar like a bird, and her delight fed into Gabriel’s own. Once, he had even stepped back, withdrawing his grace so Sorcha could take control and try to fly on her own.

Humans were not suited for flying, as Gabriel discovered when Sorcha tumbled him into an embarrassing head-over-heels crash down a mountainside, but Sorcha had only laughed as Gabriel informed her he would never trust her with his wings again. How had she not seen that mountain!?

Sorcha was an adult woman now, married and mothered and widowed already. Gabriel had tried to save her husband when he was injured in a battle, but Sorcha had asked him not to. It wasn’t fair to the others who did not have a divine protector, she had whispered to him. If he was meant to heal, he would heal. Gabriel was not to intervene.

Gabriel loved Sorcha all the more for her selflessness.

“My apologies, Sorcha.” Gabriel pulled away from Sorcha’s hug to give her a little bow that never failed to make her giggle, her face scrunching up and deep dimples forming in her cheeks. “My own family keeps calling me away.”

“You’re here now. To fly, or do you have actual business?”

“Sadly, business. I need to find my brother; I suspect he’s on Earth again, but I’ll need a vessel.”

“You know I’ll always say yes to you.” Sorcha held out her arms, tipping her chin back. “Will you take me flying anyway?”

“Of course,” Gabriel said, reaching out to the golden link that formed between them.

When Gabriel opened her eyes, she was inside Sorcha’s body, her _female_ body. Angels were genderless by their very nature, assuming the role of whatever vessel they occupied. Some, like Naomi and Anael, preferred female vessels and used feminine pronouns even outside of their vessels, but most defaulted to males. Gabriel herself preferred male solely because Vindonnus had been male. Nevertheless, she always enjoyed her time as Sorcha.

Gabriel had felt a flicker of Archangelic grace near the Great Sea when she had blanketed the world earlier. She would return there at the end of her flight, but first, she soared over the world’s oceans, letting Sorcha’s soul flood her senses.

Eventually, Gabriel turned and headed east, landing where she had felt Sammael’s grace earlier. It was gone now, just a lingering whisper that said he had been here, but that didn’t mean he was actually gone. He could have cloaked his grace and hidden, nearly invisible to angelic senses. She tucked Sorcha’s soul away, pushing her back into the sleep that would keep the woman safe from the burn of Gabriel’s grace. Once Sorcha was settled, Gabriel folded her wings and called out to her brother. “Sammael?” She looked around her, flapping her wings in annoyance and called out again. “Sammael, I said I would fly with you after the meeting! Do you still want to?”

“Do _you_?”

Gabriel turned sharply, coming face-to-face with a middle-aged human male. The man was excessively tall for a human, but then again, all of Sammael’s vessels towered toward the heavens. He was dressed in the Grecian style, with a long chiton fastened over one shoulder and belted around his waist, long brown hair, and a curly beard. There was no mistaking the Archangel behind those clear grey eyes, or the ripple of power emanating from his core. “Hello, Sammael. I thought I felt you around here.”

“Your vessel is female this time?” Sammael asked, closing the distance between them to prod Gabriel’s face.

“Sorcha is one of my favorites,” Gabriel admitted. “She’s a true vessel, and she loves to fly.”

“Her smile makes her face dent.” Sammael pushed his thumbs against Gabriel’s cheeks and smiled himself. “I like it. She suits you.”

“You’ve said that about all my vessels.”

“You always put care into your choices.” Sammael pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead, his beard scratchy against freckled skin, before stepping back. “Shall we fly? There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“Do you have to ask?” Gabriel asked, spreading her wings and grinning at her brother. She followed Sammael into the sky.

Sammael may have wanted to show something to Gabriel, but he was clearly in no hurry. He led her in a meandering tour of the world, soaring over mountains, skimming fingers through the oceans, diving and twisting and gliding among the great canyons. Gabriel’s wings beat in time with Sammael’s, never once getting tangled or out of sync with her brother. Flying with Raphael was never this easy or this freeing. Her twin was always in the wrong place, cutting her off or scolding her speed. Sammael adapted to his flight partners, finding ways to turn even short jaunts into hypnotizing dances.

Every dance had its end, and eventually Sammael ended this one near a cave. Gabriel laughed at the location—hardly any distance at all from where they had begun. “You took the scenic route,” she accused.

“You weren’t complaining.” Sammael wound his arms around Gabriel and pulled her against his chest. “I love this world. It is so beautiful and fascinating: clearly Father’s best work.”

“But you can’t stand the humans that call it home.” Gabriel picked her words carefully, needing to make sure Sammael was calm again after the scene he and Michael had made earlier. She didn’t want to trigger another outburst. Sammael had never hurt Gabriel before, but Sammael had also never attacked Michael the way he had. Gabriel’s brother was changing, and she didn’t like it.

Sammael growled into Gabriel’s hair. “You misunderstand me. You all do. Human beings, in and of themselves, are not much more inherently flawed than any other creature crawling upon this planet. However, our _interference_ with humans is what I cannot stand. Father’s insistence that they are better than _us_? The mewling attempts by the Seraphim to kiss ass and be the most pleasing? The way the Cherubim pick their favorites and conspire to breed them, as if there were some grand plan-”

“But there _is_ ,” Gabriel protested, leaning her head back to look up at her brother.

“Shh.” Sammael silenced Gabriel with a soft kiss. “We don’t _know_ that. We must take it on faith alone.”

“But…” Gabriel frowned as Sammael rubbed his thumb over her lips, trying not to let him distract her.

“Let me ask you this, Gabriel. How do you know there is a plan?”

“Father said-”

“ _Did_ He?” Sammael moved around Gabriel to stand in front of her, raising one dark eyebrow. “Think back, little brother. Did Father ever _say_ He had a plan?”

Gabriel opened her mouth but did not immediately speak. Instead, she replayed every conversation with her Father, every last exchange. The further back she remembered, the more she frowned, her face wrinkling above her eyes and pulling at her mouth. “Michael said as much,” she finally offered, but the defense sounded weak even to her own ears.

“And how does _Michael_ know?” Sammael brushed cool fingers over Gabriel’s forehead. “Who told _him_?”

“…Father?”

“You sound unsure.” Sammael cupped Gabriel’s face and brushed another kiss against her frowning lips.

“It isn’t our place to doubt!” Gabriel burst out, pulling back from Sammael and wrapping her wings around her body, as if she could protect herself from His wrath if He heard them discussing this.

“Isn’t it?” Sammael’s hands slid along Gabriel’s back, finding the tense knots in the grace between the roots of her wings and gently rubbing them out. “Gabriel, we are as Father made us. He made us with the capacity to doubt and second-guess. It is not disgraceful to question Him. I myself have wondered in His ineffability many times, and Father has never struck me down. It’s not wrong to apply ‘logical thinking’ to His plans. If there _is_ ineffability, then nothing we say or do can vary from what He wants us to say or do. If we have free will, the ability to make our own choices, affect our own futures, He simply _cannot_ be controlling us with some divine master plan. Both cannot coexist, Gabriel. Either He wants us to doubt Him, or it is right to doubt Him. Either way, He cannot be upset about it.”

“Sammael…” Gabriel turned back to her brother, lifting her hands as if to push him away but thinking twice before touching him. Logical thinking was one thing, but this doubt went against everything Gabriel knew about her Father and how things were done in Heaven. It was wrong. Forbidden. _Dangerous_. Sammael had never suffered the full brunt of God’s wrath. Even in the Throne Room, when Sammael had incited it, Michael had shielded him from any direct effects. Gabriel was scared of calling it down on her again with this thinking, but her fear was all the worse because Sammael _made sense_.

“Come with me.” Sammael caught Gabriel’s hands and drew them to his face, kissing her fingertips before tugging her gently toward the cave. Gabriel followed.

The air in the cave was warm and heavy with misty vapors. Gabriel recoiled as her body registered the stench, lifting a free hand to cover her nose.

“Sulfur,” Sammael explained as they descended into the earth. “And other noxious gases. And decay. The smell is horrible, but it is a natural deterrent.” He gestured to the corpses of birds and small rodents they passed. “Nothing needing lungs can go far here. I have my solitude.”

“It smells disgusting,” Gabriel muttered, but she still followed Sammael. Their vessels did not require fresh air to breathe as long as the angels were within them. Gabriel would make sure she took many deep breaths in fresher air to clear Sorcha’s lungs before releasing her.

The older angel squeezed his vessel through a deep cleft in the rock. Gabriel gave up on breathing entirely as she followed. This next chamber was entirely toxic and clouded. Even her sharp eyes could barely see through the steam filling the cavern. A massive river tore through the stone, scalding water hissing against her toes and soaking her boots. Sammael’s cool hand around hers was a comforting familiarity.

“Where _are_ we?” she asked, shouting so her human voice could be heard over the river.

“At the entrance!” Sammael called back. “Spread your wings—carefully now!–we’re going to fly!”

As soon as Gabriel unfurled her wings, the hot air rising from the river grabbed at her feathers, trying to yank her up. Sammael led her through the fog in a constant dive, battling the updraft. By the time they landed, their vessels’ clothing was soaked through and their sodden wings dragged on the stone behind them.

Gabriel shook herself violently, ridding herself of as much of the excess water as she could. Her core of fire revolted at the feeling of being so wet. Sammael might thrive in the water, but Gabriel found it heavy and suffocating.

This side of the river was far more comfortable, as the cave’s drafts blew the humid steam toward the entrance they had come from. Ahead, through another gash in the cave wall, Gabriel could feel the much friendlier dry heat of fire. She released Sammael’s hand and rushed toward it, trusting that Sammael wouldn’t have shown her such a temptation if it wasn’t safe.

Energy wrapped around Gabriel as she pushed through the gash, a web of spellwork pulling tight and pinching her grace painfully before it abruptly snapped free, letting her through. She stumbled, clutching at her chest with a cry of pain. A great _emptiness_ welled within her, the complete and utter absence of her brothers, her _Father_. She was disconnected from the Host, empty, alone, falling to her knees against the warm rock, her fingers spasming and grasping for _anything._ After what felt like an eternity, a tiny spark of connection blossomed, raging against the darkness.

Sammael’s cool fingers wrapped around Gabriel’s arms, drawing her off the floor and cradling her against his chest. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Gabriel whimpered and turned into Sammael’s chest, clutching at his grace, trying to draw it inside her to fill the hole.

“The first time is always the most unsettling,” Sammael continued, rocking her in his arms, pressing his cheek against her forehead. “Just breathe, Gabriel. You’re not dying. You’re safe. Just breathe with me.”

Gabriel still didn’t need to breathe, but focusing on the rhythm of her brother’s lungs and trying to match it with her own helped distract her from the gnawing ache within. Slowly, she let herself relax against Sammael, smoothing her fingers over his chiton instead of trying to pull it from him. “Sammael… what _was_ that?” she asked, once she found her voice again. “What’s happened to me?”

“Protection.” Sammael answered. “It’s a gate, to keep unwanted forces out.”

“Unwanted forces?” Gabriel wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands—tears had slipped out. She hadn’t cried since that time when she was in Vindonnus, with Michael and Sammael wrapped around her. “Sammael, I can’t feel the Host anymore!”

“Sometimes, I’m not certain the Host is on my side.” Sammael looked solemnly at Gabriel. “Or Father.”

Gabriel pressed her hand over her chest again, staring up at Sammael. “You cut Father out of our spirits!”

“It’s locale-based. Pass back through the gate the other way, and His presence will flood back in. Temporary discomfort, nothing more.”

“This is a bit more than discomfort!” Gabriel sat up on her own, glancing back at the gate they had passed through. The rock wall stretched far above them on this side of the gash, impossibly tall for how deep they were in the earth, disappearing into the dark above. Sigils, Enochian, some she knew, most she didn’t, were carved into the stone, painted over in dried blood. The markings pulsed, _breathed_ , with a sickly light, oozing pus down the rock. The wall was _wrong_. Gabriel couldn’t read all the signs, and the overwhelming sense of wrongness echoed within her bones. She was the Messenger of Heaven, knowing every language that ever was and ever would be. She did not know this one. “Sammael…”

“Most of it is my own creation,” Sammael murmured, sliding himself against Gabriel’s back and resting his chin on her frizzing curls. “No angel, nor Father, can enter this place without my express permission. They cannot sense anything done or said in this realm.”

Gabriel could pick out her own name carved into the rock, one of the few markings _not_ infected. Sammael had written her into the wards already, granting her permission before she even knew to ask.

“This is where I would go when Michael had you spy on me,” Sammael confessed. “You could still have followed, but you never tried.”

“I wasn’t very good at it,” Gabriel admitted. “I don’t like spying.” She reached for Sammael’s arms and folded them around her, needing him near. He was the only other angel this side of the gate, the only angel she could feel inside her. She needed to keep him close, trying to control the gnawing emptiness. “This is… you made all of this? Yourself?”

“It’s a new dimension,” Sammael said. “I cut a hole through the plane, fashioned it roughly after Heaven in how it is rooted and supported.”

“That explains the size discrepancies.” Gabriel glanced up at the too-tall ceiling again before twisting around to look into the rest of the dimension. She gasped, her jaw dropping open involuntarily at the sight. “ _Sammael_!”

Reaching out of the shadows above, heavy roots grasped for life. They coiled around soaring columns of bone, digging into the cracks like misshapen tendons. Yellow sulfur crystals encrusted this canopy, glittering darkly in the gloom where they weren’t melting from the searing heat, turning into blood red droplets that spattered against the ground, pooling together, running in little rivulets across the blackened stone. Delicate arches of giant rib cages stretched overhead, futilely trying to hold back the trees, with ancient spines above and below leading the way deeper into Sammael’s realm. A rich orange glow beckoned to Gabriel from deep within the cavern, the promise of molten rock and stone.

Sammael helped Gabriel to her feet, walking backwards along the bony path to draw her along by her hands. The great roots groaned as they approached, shaking molten sulfur that speckled over their wings. Gabriel drew hers in tight against her back, easing closer to Sammael. “Is it safe?”

“As long as I’m with you, nothing here will hurt you,” Sammael promised.

“What if we’re separated?”

Sammael squeezed Gabriel’s hands. “We won’t be.”

That was hardly reassuring, Gabriel noted, as the enormous ribs creaked above her from the weight of the ancient roots. “How did you make all this?” she asked, giving up any sense of dignity to press firmly against Sammael. He chuckled, sliding his arm around her waist and turning to walk at her side.

“I stole materials wherever I could.”

“The bones are massive, like…”

“Dinosaurs.” Sammael confirmed the suspicions in Gabriel’s mind. “I slipped back through time, to when the world was burning. Everyone was too busy mourning the loss to notice an extra angel scavenging through the ruins.”

“It’s gruesome.”

Sammael shrugged. “It was necessary. Where else could I find the supports I needed in the size I wanted? I don’t have Father’s tools. It’s not easy to create stuff from nothing. I needed a base to start with.”

“The roots?” Gabriel asked, pointing up and immediately drawing her hand back as a fat sulfur droplet fell on her finger.

“Woven between the planes, to keep this one anchored to Earth.”

“The sulfur?” Gabriel showed Sammael her red finger, and Sammael chuckled, lifting it to his lips to kiss the slight burn off her skin.

“That, I can’t keep out. It comes from the river at the entrance. I’ve just let it collect where it pleases.”

“And that?” Gabriel nestled closer to Sammael’s side, pointing ahead to the orange glow they were headed toward. Now she could hear a dull roaring too, like a waterfall.

“Ah,” Sammael said, grinning. “ _That_ is something I put in just for you.”

The Archangels stepped through a slow rain of sulfur drips, emerging onto a wide rocky ledge spreading before a curtain of burning magma streaming into a deep pit. A spiral ramp of charred bone and rock, splashed with more of the liquid sulfur, curled around the flow, down and down and down, until even the bright molten rock couldn’t illuminate the darkness enough. Gabriel burst ahead of Sammael, racing right to the very edge of the ledge, her wings stretched to keep her from falling forward. “Sammael!”

“Do you like it?” Sammael asked, coming up behind her, his hands resting over her hips.

“It’s amazing!” Gabriel _loved_ magma, loved seeing the power her element had even over solid, unmoving rock. There wasn’t much chance to observe it on Earth’s surface unless she dove into the deep craters of volcanoes. Lava wasn’t quite as fun: it cooled and hardened before she had a chance to thoroughly appreciate its beauty.

“I call it home,” Sammael murmured into Gabriel’s ear, squeezing her hips.

The smile fell from Gabriel’s face as she turned to face Sammael, taking a step back that nearly tipped her off the edge. “ _Home_ , Sammael? Home is Heaven, with Father and Michael and all the Host.”

Sammael’s good mood evaporated as quickly as Gabriel’s had, and he turned away from her with a roll of his eyes. “Heaven has not been my home for over a century, Gabriel. You know that.”

“How can this be a replacement?” Gabriel demanded, throwing out an arm, her other hand pressing over the hole in her chest. “It’s _empty_ here, Sammael! Where is your family? Your brothers? Your _partner_? You’re alone here. It’s…” She looked over her shoulder, at the magmafall, then back to the rooted forest and bone. “It can be… very nice here, but it cannot be home. An angel is not meant to be alone.”

“We’re alone in Heaven!” Sammael argued. “Alone when we are shunned and scolded for having a dissenting opinion.” He turned sharply back to Gabriel, his eyes blazing in the glow of the magma. “Alone when we are silenced for voicing concerns. Alone when we, the oldest beings in the _universe_ , are treated as no more than disobedient children!”

“Maybe you feel like that,” Gabriel said quietly, “but I-”

“Why don’t you ever protest when Naomi tries to have you replaced with her angels?”

Gabriel folded her arms across her chest defensively, her wings bristling at the mention of the Seraph’s repeated attempts to oust her from her job. “I trust Father will-”

“Why do you let Raphael constantly belittle you and ruffle your feathers?”

“Raphael is just-”

“Why don’t you ever protest when Michael leaves a mess for you to clean up? Why don’t you ever demote Zachariah when he picks a fight with the pagans? Why do you bow and offer praise to a Father who nearly scraped your mind clean?”

“Sammael, that isn’t fair!” Gabriel cried out, recoiling from Sammael’s harsh questions, her arms tight against her body.

“It angers you!” Sammael took a step toward Gabriel, wings flared aggressively but not turned to battle. Gabriel backed away as far as she dared without taking to the air, balancing on her toes at the very edge of the ledge. “You swallow it down, but I see how you cringe. You hate being overlooked, counted as insignificant, as _just_ the Messenger, smallest and weakest and youngest of the Archangels, a passive little human-lover with no spine of your own.”

Gabriel took another step back onto open air, flaring her wings to check her fall, but Sammael grabbed her around the waist and snatched her back onto the ledge. He spun around, backing her into one of the columns of bone and pressing in close. His cool hands smoothed over her hair, her skin, as he leaned in close to press his forehead against hers

“You say nothing because it ‘isn’t our place,’” Sammael murmured, resigned sorrow replacing his harsh tone from earlier. “You let our brothers run roughshod over you because to protest is to disobey, and to disobey is to disappoint, to be punished. Possibly even by death.” Sammael met Gabriel’s eyes, their noses bumping together. He turned his head to brush his lips over the dried tearstains on her cheeks, impossibly gentle now as he wrapped his grace around her. Sammael was sad _for_ her. Gabriel could feel her brother’s empathy and love swelling against her own grace, and she knew he was undeniably on her side.

“Sammael, please,” Gabriel whispered, reaching up to grasp Sammael's arms. She didn't know if she wanted him to stop or to never let go, to push him away or pull him closer. He made the decision for her, leaning in to press their mouths together, lingering kisses that caught at her lips, coaxed her open beneath him. Gabriel's fingers clenched and relaxed, and then she slid her hands back, curling them around his shoulder blades, holding him close.

Sammael's fingers ran down Gabriel's throat, brushing over her pulse, catching in the collar of her dress. He pushed her sleeves down, over her shoulders and arms. The cloth caught on the swell of her breasts, but he gently tugged it free, baring her to her waist. Gabriel arched her back away from the bone, pressing into Sammael's hands. “Please,” she whispered again, against Sammael's lips.

“ _I_ value you, Gabriel.” Sammael's voice was low now, a conspiratorial whisper against her ear, caressing the sounds of her name over her grace. “I _love_ you. I can see your worth.” He punctuated each statement with a kiss, finding his way back to her mouth. “Stay with me, here. Be my partner. Rule this anti-Heaven at my side.”

Gabriel's legs were spreading under the gentle pressure of Sammael's weight, and he stepped even closer, pressing into the cradle of her hips. His hands slid lower still, over the bunched fabric at her waist, down her legs. He caught her skirt and pulled it up as he spoke, his fingers delving beneath the rising hem to skim up her inner thighs, leaving cool trails against her skin that made her shiver.

“Here, you would be revered. Loved. Cherished. _Respected_. Here, you don't have to hide your doubts. You'd be _encouraged_ to question.”

“Here, I am alone,” Gabriel murmured against Sammael's lips. “Empty.” She kept her eyes open and fixed on his face even as she felt him press up between her legs. “Sammael… I'm scared.”

“I have you, Gabriel.” Sammael held her gaze as he slid two fingers into her body. “We are not alone if we are together. I am yours, as you are mine. You will _never_ be empty so long as I am here to fill you.”

Gabriel gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as Sammael's thumb rubbed forward. She whimpered her brother's name, felt him swallow the sounds as he leaned in to kiss her again.

 _Yes_ hung heavy in Gabriel's throat as she rocked against Sammael's hand. _Yes_ screamed through her head as she grasped at his chiton, pulling it loose. _Yes_ whispered in the rustle of her wings as he pulled his fingers away and buried himself inside her, joining them together.

But _No_ had Michael's green eyes. _No_ had Cariel's smirking voice and Castiel's hopeful little smiles. _No_ had her brothers' songs and a graceful wing broken at Sammael's hands. _Yes_ and _No_ battled through Gabriel's spirit, her grace, and she screamed into Sammael's mouth, into the curve of his neck.

Sammael groaned Gabriel's name, adulations, worship. He ground her against the bone with every thrust, one of her legs pulled up around his waist.

When they finally collapsed together in a sticky puddle of grace and human sweat, their wings were stained red from molten sulfur. Gabriel was openly weeping, and Sammael gathered her close. She pressed against his chest as his wings closed around her, sheltering her, just as he always had, as he always promised.

“Shh, little brother,” Sammael murmured against Gabriel's hair. “Don't decide right away. _Don't_. Stay here; let me show you more of what I made. Just stay with me for now. Think about it. Pray, if you think it would help. Don't make a hasty choice. I don't want you to regret anything.”

 _Thank you,_ Gabriel thought, closing her eyes and letting her tears fall. She _was_ safe with Sammael, even here, in the midst of his own little world. She would always be safe with him.


	18. Gabriel's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years in Hell run together, and Gabriel has to return to her choir. All is not as she expected, however, and Cariel has missed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is still in his female vessel for this chapter. I don't know if that's upsetting people or not.

### Gabriel’s Return

Time had no meaning in Sammael’s realm. There was no sun tracking through the sky and no way to peek out at the physical realm. Gabriel lost herself in exploring every last nook and cranny Sammael had made, marveling at her brother’s ingenuity. He was always at her side, his eyes glittering with joy as he showed off his world, fluffing his wings proudly with every bit of praise she sang to him. He let her create too, let her leave her mark on this world, hollowing out new expanses and digging deep into the nothingness that all things came from.

_“What are you thinking?” Sammael’s arms slid around Gabriel’s waist as his mouth found her ear. Gabriel fluttered her wings and leaned back into her brother’s embrace._

_“This is abrupt.” Gabriel pointed at a stone wall, where a passage bent sharply and continued away. “It feels like something else should be there. I **want** something else there. I can’t explain it.”_

_“That’s how it always starts.” Sammael’s smile curved against Gabriel’s cheek and he reached forward, stroking his fingers over the wall even as he kept her pinned between his arms. “How all of the creation of this realm started. It spoke to me, told me what it wanted, and I found a way to shape it. It’s speaking to you now.”_

_“To me?” Gabriel twisted her head to look at Sammael. “How can it speak to me? It’s yours.”_

_“Ours,” Sammael corrected. “Go on, look at it again. It wants something else there? How can you set it free?”_

_Gabriel reached out, pressing her hands between Sammael’s. “Heat,” she declared. “This rock wants to melt away.”_

_“Do it.”_

_Sammael’s tempting whisper in her ear was all the permission Gabriel needed. She closed her eyes and took a deep, unnecessary breath, sinking deep within the core of her spirit. Her fire raged around her, licking at her conscience, celebrating her presence. **Burn,** the Archangel whispered to her flames. They roared higher, streaming out through her arms as she shoved the pure inferno at the rock. It glowed and melted, streaming away from her hands, illuminating her grin. Sammael nipped at her ear before he summoned up his own water, forcing it into the cracks in the rock. Gabriel chased after it, flashing the water into steam that pulverized solid stone with the sudden pressure. The tiny fragments melted even quicker, running across the floor and hardening into smooth glass under Sammael’s deluge._

_Together, they opened up a massive chamber every bit as large as some of the fields of Heaven. It sloped down gradually until the ceiling was too high up for even sharp angel eyes to see. Gabriel stood in the middle and laughed, stretching out her wings fully and feeling like she was out in the open instead of confined beneath the ground. She had created this, with Sammael’s help! She had **created**!_

There were many levels to this realm, but Gabriel’s favorite locations were still the massive obsidian field and a conical pit of fire deep within the bowels of the dimension, both of which had been shaped at her hands. She loved Sammael’s magmafall too and would often swoop and dive through the churning, molten rock, whooping with glee as Sammael sat on one of the crystalline ledges and just watched her, shaking his head. The magma was too intense for him to enjoy the way she did. Even just sitting close enough to watch could make him steam after a few minutes, but he never once tried to stop her from reveling in her own element.

Sammael also never again asked Gabriel to rule with him from this realm. He never asked her to stay by his side. Gabriel appreciated his care. He promised that her choice would be _her_ choice, and he was respecting her inability to make up her mind. While the realm itself was staggeringly beautiful—once she got past the bone Sammael used to support every new ceiling or the bloodlike melting sulfur that blossomed in every crevice or the massive root system that slowly but surely worked its way through every layer of this underworld, like a giant living creature that only tolerated the touch of its master, Sammael—the hollow _emptiness_ that resonated in her chest was never far from her mind. It was like a bruised limb she could forget about until she brushed it against something and ignited a new flood of agony. Sammael did what he could to distract her mind from the lack of the Host, and when words alone weren’t enough, he distracted her body from the emptiness with his own.

As every moment melted together, running into a continuous, sticky-slow stream of time, Gabriel found herself growing numb to the ache. It was still there, it still hurt, but it didn’t matter so much. Nothing mattered much, she mused one hour, as she lay against Sammael’s bare chest, his fingers carding through her frizzy curls. She had her brother, and she had her fire. What else did she need? God? Humanity? What did they ever do for her? Michael? Cariel? They never-

Gabriel jerked upright with a gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “Cariel!”

“Hmm?” Sammael lifted his head to look at her, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. “What about him?”

“I promised Cariel I’d keep in touch!” Gabriel grabbed for her dress. “Sammael, how long have we been down here? Days?”

Sammael shrugged lazily, reaching out to help her dress (but really just running his hands over her skin before she could cover it. “Weeks, at least. Months probably. A year or two.”

“ _A year or two_!?” Gabriel snapped her wings out, using them to help propel her along the roads of this realm. Sammael followed. “Sammael, I have responsibilities! A choir! And Cariel, I promised Cariel I’d keep him updated! Blessed Father, they probably think I’ve run off on them!”

“Gabriel! Gabriel, calm down!” Sammael surged forward, grabbed her wings, and gently yanked her to a halt. “Gabriel, shh, calm. You’ve been gone this long already. What’s a few more minutes?”

“Sammael, I have to go!”

“Stay.” Sammael pulled her back into his arms, resting his forehead against hers. “Please, Gabriel. Stay with me.”

“But Cariel,” Gabriel whispered, closing her eyes as Sammael brushed his lips against hers. “Cariel, my choir… I can’t abandon them, Sammael…”

“They can come too. I can write their names into the wards. This can be their home too. Many in my choir are already permitted. Yours can be too. This can be our home, the two of us against the two left in Heaven.”

Cariel would follow Gabriel anywhere. Gabriel didn’t even have to ask to know he’d say yes. But what about the others? Gentle Barachiel would suffer underground. He lived for the sun and the Earth. Zachariah would rage, pent up down here. He needed enemies to fight and subdue. And what of the younger angels, of sweet Anael, or little Castiel with his fierce need to be the best Angel in all of Heaven? He wouldn’t understand the move. He’d see it as a punishment, as yet another way he wasn’t good enough. Those were just _her_ angels. What about the ones she’d leave behind, her friends in Michael and Raphael’s choirs? What about Michael himself? Or the Cherubim, whom she always made a point of speaking with whenever she saw them? Joshua, who gave her a flower every time she visited the Garden? There were too many to think about, too many to worry about, too many to ask to follow her here.

“I love you, Sammael, I do,” Gabriel pulled away from the kiss, pressing her face into her brother’s shoulder.

“But?” Sammael already sounded resigned, leaning down to rest his cheek against her hair.

“But Heaven is my home. Is _their_ home. I can’t ask them to leave, and I can’t leave them. I can’t, Sammael. I just can’t.”

“So you would leave me instead?”

“I would take you with me.” Gabriel clasped Sammael’s hands in hers, looked up into his grey eyes, begging him to have faith again. “I’ll talk to Michael. It’s been so long, I’m sure he’s calmed down. I’ll talk with him about ending your exile. He still loves you, Sammael. He has to. If he didn’t love you, your loss wouldn’t hurt him as much as it does. Your choir misses you; you may allow them to come here, but they still dwell in Heaven. Even _Father_ feels your absence. He said as much, last time He called me in to deliver a message.”

“It’s not that simple, Gabriel.” Sammael squeezed Gabriel’s hands. “My grievances with Heaven and Michael are more than just my banishment. And don’t forget how I broke his wing. He won’t be very forgiving about that.”

“I’ll talk to Michael,” Gabriel repeated. “Maybe… maybe the two of you can talk? I can bring him here, so he can see how you’ve been spending your time. You can show him all that you’ve made, just the two of you. Maybe that’s all you need? A bit of privacy, so you can say anything you need.”

Sammael was silent, looking down at Gabriel, before he heaved a sigh. “You really want this.”

“I want you two to stop fighting. Heaven’s not heavenly without its greatest partnership. I hate being stuck in the middle between you two, and I hate not having you near.” Gabriel leaned up on her toes to kiss Sammael gently. “Promise me you’ll at least _try_? If I can get Michael to come here, promise me you’ll talk to him?”

“If it means that much to you,” Sammael finally relented. “If it _really_ matters that much, then I’ll talk. But he has to promise to listen.”

“He will. I’ll make sure of it.” Gabriel kissed Sammael again, feeling a grin stretching her face wide. This feud might soon be over, and Heaven could go back to the way it was! “Right now, I have to go and reassure everyone that I’m not abandoning them. I’m not abandoning you either. I’ll return soon, couple of weeks at the most. I promise.”

Sammael pouted, but he unfolded his arms to let her go. She gave him one last smile before twisting around to resume her run for the exit.

The web of energy snared her as she tried to push out of Sammael’s realm, and for one brief moment of panic she wondered if he wouldn’t actually let her go. The invisible strands drew tight around her, cutting through her grace, but then they snapped free and she was through, falling to her hands and knees on the rocky floor on Earth’s side. The massive, steaming river roared in front of her, louder even than her scream as awareness _slammed_ back into her consciousness. Every last one of her brothers’ presences, from Michael in his heavenly tower to the lowest Cherubim flitting through the clouds, filled her mind, their songs a harsh cacophony of noise that destroyed the silence she had grown accustomed to. _Father_ filled her again, a pulsing heart of grace that swelled inside her chest and made her whole body ache, feeling too tight, too stuffed. She gasped, clawing at the rock so she didn’t rip at her own skin, willing the Host to quiet down. Had she really been away for so long that she had _forgotten_ all of this?

“Gabriel!”

Hands touched her, hands of light and power, glowing with a brilliance that made her eyes water and sting. They were warm hands, large and unsure, and she flinched away from the touch— _notSammael whoareyou howdidyougethere!?_

“Gabriel?” That voice again, high and pure and _angelic_ , thrumming against her grace. This was how angels sounded, how they spoke in their true forms. Gabriel knew this voice, harsh as it felt right now. Had Sammael’s realm really been so dulling? Had she actually considered _staying_?

“C-Cariel?” she stammered, blinking rapidly to try to alleviate the pain. “Cariel, dim your halo, _please_!”

The glow was gone almost immediately, as Cariel wrapped his grace in tight, cloaking himself to human senses. He was much more tolerable like this, and Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief, reaching up to rub her eyes gingerly. “Figures you’d be the first to notice my return.”

“It’s been five _days_ , Gabriel! Your grace was gone! We thought Sammael had killed you!”

Cariel’s distress reawakened old instincts, and Gabriel surged forward to wrap her second in her wings, drawing him close. Cariel pressed against her, clinging to her, shivering faintly. “We thought you were dead, Gabriel. You promised you’d keep me updated, but _nothing_ , and your grace was gone. No one could find you anywhere. Michael’s locked himself in his tower. Raphael has been trying to keep the Host calm. Sammael was put under guard until we could find some proof of your death…”

“Shh,” Gabriel murmured, stroking Cariel’s wings. “I’m not dead, Cariel. I’m here. I’m right here. I’m alive, and I’m uninjured, and… _five days_!?” She drew back enough to stare down at her second. “It’s only been five days?”

Cariel nodded, looking up, reaching for her cheek. “Five long days. We didn’t know if we’d ever find you. This river is caustic enough to sear away any residue from burnt out grace, even that of an Archangel. It was the perfect place for an assassination.”

“I thought…” _Years_ , Sammael had said. Had he known, or had he only guessed? It was hard to tell time in his realm. He had probably just been mistaken. “Never mind.” Gabriel shook her head, giving Cariel one last squeeze before releasing him and looking around. Already, old habits were returning to her. She could filter the Host now, dialing down the volume so the loud din became a reassuring murmur. Her spirit had stretched around the presence of her Father, no longer feeling like it was about to split at the seams. Cariel’s grace was comforting again, instead of a harsh glare. “I was in another dimension. There.” She pointed at the opening in the rock face, through which she could only see darkness. “Didn’t anyone look?”

“We tried.” Cariel straightened up, pulling composure back around him as surely as he had pulled in his grace. “No one could penetrate the wards put up there. Michael came down himself and battered at the rock, but they held even against him. We figured if he couldn’t pass them, neither could you.”

“They were keyed to me.” Gabriel stepped up to the entrance to Sammael’s realm again, running her hand over the stone. She could feel the rough gouges from Michael’s attack. He must have used his affinity for earth to try to pull the gate apart. How had they not felt anything from within? “Sammael invented his own warding, things even I have never seen before.”

“They worked.” Cariel’s eyes never left Gabriel, tracking her as she moved across the ledge. “He made an effective prison. How did you manage to escape?”

“Prison?” Gabriel looked sharply back at Cariel. “This is no prison. It’s a pocket dimension, not a cage!”

“So… you _hid_ for five days?”

“I… lost track of time. There’s no means of tracking it in there. Sammael and I were exploring. He’s much calmer now.” Gabriel didn’t feel any need to give even Cariel a full accounting of her activities in Sammael’s dimension. “I honestly thought I was gone for years when I realized.”

Cariel shook his head, frowning at her. “Sammael wasn’t in there.”

“I think I’d know my own brother.”

“He _wasn’t_ ,” Cariel repeated. “He’s been in the ocean this whole time.”

“Sammael’s been at my side,” Gabriel said slowly, turning back to Cariel.

“Zachariah has stationed five of his garrisons over the ocean, and they’ve all been watching Sammael ever since your grace vanished. He’s seated in the deepest trench of the ocean, and he hasn’t stirred since, but he is definitely _there_. His grace is unmistakable.”

“That’s impossible.” No angel could be in two places at once, not even an Archangel. “Sammael followed me into this dimension. He hasn’t left my side, not once.”

Cariel tilted his head to the side, his gaze growing distant as he called to Zachariah over their choir’s frequency. Gabriel could hear his query and Zachariah’s response confirming that the Archangel of the Water had taken shelter in the one place on Earth no other angel dared to challenge him.

“I know my brother!” Gabriel snapped, denying Zachariah’s insistences.

“So do we.” Cariel focused on Gabriel again, still frowning. “You were gone, your grace snuffed out. Sammael flew from here to there. In his current, ah, _unsettled_ state, we feared the worst and took precautions.

Gabriel looked back at the gate to Sammael’s realm, frowning. If she returned, she’d suffer through the ripping agony of being emptied of her Father and the Host again, and then suffer through having it stuffed all back inside her once she returned. Cariel probably couldn’t pass through the gate yet; Sammael had offered to add her Seraph’s name to the wards, but she doubted he’d do anything until she returned. “We’ll go to Zachariah,” she decided. “Let me see for myself what Sammael’s up to.”

Cariel nodded and spread his six wings, which were easily dwarfed by Gabriel’s hundreds. The power difference between the two classes of angels was glaringly obvious when they stood side-by-side like this, but Cariel didn’t flinch away from Gabriel’s impressive display. “I’ll need a vessel, if I’m going to stay on Earth much longer.”

“Take one and meet me with Zachariah.”

Gabriel didn’t leap into the air like she had with Sammael. Physical flying was the most pleasurable way to travel, but when time was of the essence, there was only one way to travel. Gabriel released her grace, expanding out, once again both everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. She folded back in on herself over the Pacific Ocean, beside Zachariah. Five of his Dominions and all of their garrisons, all envesseled, patrolled the air over the blue water, their gazes focused on the bubble of grace far below, little waves stirred up by their powerful wingbeats.

“Gabriel!” Zachariah bowed low, his highest set of wings almost dipping into the ocean. All the lesser angels within ten meters practically folded themselves in half, and Gabriel winced. With all the fighting between Michael and Sammael, all the secret-keeping, it had been a long time since Archangels walked in the presence of Dominions and Angels. Apparently, old habits were resurfacing, and Gabriel’s choir was remembering how they used to be insufferably reverent of her power.

“Your presence is a surprise! We thought you had been gruesomely murdered!”

“So I’ve heard, and so I’m not.” Gabriel beckoned her brothers upright, barely managing to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Stop with the scraping! We’re all brothers here. And speaking of brothers…” Gabriel snapped her fingers at the youngest angel who had bowed, blue-eyed Castiel, whose very grace was singing in relief at the sight of her. “Castiel. Come here.”

The little angel flew forward, nervously glancing to his superiors for approval—first Anael, who smiled warmly at him, then at Zachariah, who jerked his head toward Gabriel impatiently. Gabriel frowned at Castiel’s reactions. She really had been too distant for too long if this was how her favorite Angel was reacting to her presence, once again skittish and uncertain of his place in the Host.

“Y-yes, Choirmaster?” Castiel knelt on the air in front of Gabriel, flinching as she seized him by the shoulders and pulled him up again. His vessel was a young man, taller than Sorcha but thinner, underfed. His huge blue eyes were a perfect match for the Angel’s, though, and Gabriel softened as she looked into them. She willed her frustration at the whole situation into the back of her mind, pulling it out of her grace so she stopped radiating upset and frightening the younger angels. It helped that Cariel chose that moment to materialize at her right hand, now in a vessel of his own. His company was infinitely preferable to the warmonger Zachariah’s.

“Stand up, Castiel. You’re not in trouble.” Gabriel reached out with a wing to smooth over Castiel’s, finding a fond smile just for him. “I need you to deliver a message for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Gabriel.” Castiel’s voice shook less as he rose, leaning into Gabriel’s caress like he did when he was a fledgling. “I will not disappoint you.”

From any other angel, that statement would have been unnecessary, just empty pleasantries; no angel ever _tried_ to disappoint another. Castiel, though, spoke with earnest intent. His many failures, from his disastrous fledging to the destruction of the last unicorn herd, had been woven into the song of Heaven. Some angels even whispered about him as ‘the little angel who _couldn’t_ ,’ though Gabriel did all she could to silence those unkind teasings.

Castiel had done much better once Gabriel had gotten him away from Raphael. Her twin was many things, but patient in the face of failure was not one of them. Gabriel, on the other hand, had nothing _but_ patience for Castiel, and she had purposely assigned him to her warmest Dominion, Anael, along with Castiel’s partner, an unruly Angel named Balthazar. Under Anael’s guiding hand, the two had grown into shining examples of Angels.

Perhaps more accurately, the two Angels were the most unintentionally troublesome partnership in all of Heaven. Castiel still had mishaps, though without the constant fear of punishment from his superiors, he had managed to relax and not leave so much inadvertent destruction in his wake. Balthazar often slipped away from his duties (and tempted Castiel along with him), unable to keep his hands off of things that did not belong to him. But Castiel hadn’t driven any new species to extinction and Balthazar’s antics were frequently more entertaining than dangerous, so Gabriel counted them both as successes.

Trusting Castiel to deliver a message was possibly a mistake, as Zachariah’s expression implied, but Gabriel wanted to give her little brother as many chances as possible to prove his worth. If he was never given responsibility, how could he ever grow out of his unfortunate reputation?

“I need you to go to Michael, in his tower. Tell him I’m not dead and will come home after I speak with Sammael. Make sure _Michael himself_ gets this message, okay?”

“Yes, Gabriel. Tell Michael himself that you are not dead and will come home as soon as you are done with Sammael.”

“Good brother,” Gabriel said with another caress over Castiel’s wings. “Go.” The younger angel blinked out of their presence with a rustle of feathers.

“If Michael gets a message at all, it’ll probably be garbled into proclaiming your death,” Zachariah warned. “More than likely, Castiel will get lost in a cloud.”

“I like him,” Cariel defended. “He certainly has the most zeal for doing his job.”

“If zeal were real, Castiel would be an Archangel,” Zachariah grumbled right back.

“Regardless of his abilities, the message has been sent. I won’t undermine an angel of my choir by sending a second.” Gabriel stepped between the Seraphim, her words ending the argument. “Zachariah, what has Sammael said in the past five days?”

“Nothing.”

Now that he was being debriefed by his superior, Zachariah snapped into a more professional demeanor. “We haven’t spoken with him. We were ordered to hold our ground here and give chase if he moved.”

“By?”

“The orders came down from Michael.”

Gabriel nodded once. If Raphael had tried commanding her choir after only five days, she would need to have some very strong words with him. Michael was _her_ superior, so he was allowed to take command. As her equal, Raphael was not. “So you haven’t approached him?”

Zachariah’s wings tightened. “He was potentially murderous and sitting beneath nearly seven miles of water.”

In other words, no, Zachariah was neither suicidal nor willing to risk his garrisons, and Michael had been too aware of the danger to order them into the sea. With his water core, Sammael was strongest when he was submerged. Challenging him in the ocean was the last mistake someone could make. Even Michael was weaker than Sammael beneath the waves.

That also meant no one had gotten close enough to see how Sammael was in two places at once. The grace below the gathered angels was definitely Sammael’s, though it was weak and filtered, as if he were hiding in a vessel. Gabriel gave Zachariah another nod of understanding and scrutinized the ocean.

Sammael was not murderous, and he loved her. He would not (likely) attack her unless she managed to completely offend him, and while he had been pouting when she left him, Sammael had been calm and stable, not likely to become unhinged over nothing.

But that had been the version of Sammael Gabriel had lived with for past five days, in his private realm. This Sammael couldn’t be him. This Sammael could potentially still be furious over the fight with Michael.

“Cariel.”

“Yes, Gabriel?” Cariel was immediately at her side, ready for whatever she asked.

“We will descend together. Just us. Zachariah, you continue to hold your positions up here. If we signal distress, bring down your garrisons for an extraction only.” There was no need to risk lives by upsetting Sammael with a show of force.

“Yes, Gabriel,” her Seraphim chorused. Zachariah retreated to his Dominions as Cariel and Gabriel tucked their wings in tight and dove into the ocean. Gabriel gave a full-body shiver as the water closed around her, drowning her inner fire, suffocating her. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced those thoughts to the back of her mind. It was all in her head. Water wouldn’t _hurt_ her. She could endure this.

As the water grew darker around them, Gabriel stretched out her grace and brushed against Cariel’s, whispering privately into his mind. _Slow down. I want to talk to you before we meet Sammael._

_Your wish, my wings,_ Cariel answered, flaring said wings to create a drag on his descent. Gabriel did the same, slowing down to half speed to buy them some more time. _Talk about what?_

_First, Naomi._ Gabriel’s lips twisted in distaste at the thought of Cariel’s partner. Naomi was one of Michael’s Seraphim, second class, powerful in her own right, but she was also one of the biggest annoyances in Gabriel’s life. Ever since Sammael had been banished from Heaven, she had made it her personal mission to get Gabriel kicked out of his Messenger position. Somehow, she had managed to convince Raphael that it was a good idea (though Gabriel suspected that was more from Raphael’s desire to heckle Gabriel than out of any belief that Gabriel was incompetent in his duties). Michael had refused her constant proposals, resolute in the belief that until God said otherwise, Gabriel would remain Heaven’s Messenger. _She is your partner._

Cariel actually growled at Naomi’s name, a rare reaction from an angel. While not all _adored_ their partners the way Michael and Sammael once had, nearly all found peace at their partners’ sides, a greater comfort and security there than with any other angel. Cariel and Naomi had been that way once, the best of friends, spending every spare moment they had with their heads bowed together, wings around each other. _In name only. Sometimes, I think we’re even colder than you infamous twins._

_I’m sorry to hear that._ Lie. They both knew it. That had been exactly what Gabriel wanted to hear. She _was_ sad that Cariel now understood the loneliness that came without a loving partner, but she was glad he had no sense of loyalty left to the irritating Seraph.

_I’m not! That bitch threw me under the cart over Mesopotamia, and what she’s been trying to do with you is unacceptable! She didn’t even bother to give the Host a chance to grieve you before she was petitioning Michael to appoint a new Messenger. I nearly ripped her wings off myself when I heard what she was up to!_

Gabriel grinned, reaching out to squeeze Cariel’s wrist in appreciation. _I’m glad to hear that. Your loyalty is why I wanted you down here with me, instead of Zachariah._

Cariel gave Gabriel a sharp-eyed look, his anger at Naomi already bleeding away. _You still don’t believe Sammael is down here._

_I know my brother,_ Gabriel repeated. _This may be a trick of his, but it’s not him. He was with me the entire time._

_With you, or “with” you?_

Gabriel gaped at her impudent Seraph as he emphasized the second ‘with,’ swinging a wing around to swat the side of his head. _That’s irrelevant! And none of your business! None of **anyone’s** business!_ She was protesting too much, and Cariel knew it, if his smirk was anything to judge by.

_For a kiss, I won’t tell anyone._ Cariel winked at Gabriel, the gesture invisible to all but angelic senses in the dark ocean.

_And now extortion?_ For all her protests, Gabriel was laughing. Only Cariel would dare to tease her like this, his quips making her laugh in spite of the stress.

Cariel laughed along with her, twisting his arm in her hand so he could catch her wrist and give it a squeeze. _You know I wouldn’t say a word, even without the kiss. My loyalty is to you. But I have to say, I understand why Sammael would secret you away for so long, making sure you weren’t interrupted._

_You admire my vessel,_ Gabriel protested.

_I admire the spirit within._

Cariel’s last statement hadn’t been teasing at all. Gabriel looked over at him, saw the absolute seriousness in his grace, the affection reflected in his eyes. He couldn’t love her. He _couldn’t_. Not like how she loved Michael or Sammael. They weren’t even the same rank! _You flirt above your station._

Cariel looked down at her words, just a small flicker of his eyes, his grace carefully held in check. Gabriel’s own grace clenched at the sight, and she used her hand on his arm to tug herself against him, brushing her lips over his cheek. She could give him this much, for all his loyalty.

The Seraph looked up at the contact, and before Gabriel could react, he had turned, sliding their mouths together. She gasped as Cariel stole a kiss, the press of their lips electrifying, igniting Gabriel’s grace even despite the crushing water around her. He pulled away too soon, drawing his arm away from her and offering her a smile. _So sorry, boss. Couldn’t resist._

Gabriel blinked at Cariel, belatedly realizing that they had both flared their wings fully and come to a complete stop in the water. _Try to, next time._ Cariel grinned brightly, and Gabriel realized she had implied there would _be_ a next time. Shaking her wings, Gabriel folded them and dove again, headed for the bubble of Sammael’s grace. Cariel followed just behind her.

Sammael’s grace was a divine glow in the deep ocean’s gloom, but nothing more. It sat in a crevice on the ocean floor, humming gently with power, completely devoid of an angel within. Gabriel and Cariel spread their wings to land gently, stirring up mud beneath their feet. The grace pulsed gently at their presence, its glow flickering stronger where it was closest to them. Gabriel frowned, stretching out her hand toward the bright patch of light.

_Gabriel, don’t!_ Cariel lashed out to catch her hand, holding her back. _It could be a trap._

Gabriel almost protested that Sammael would never hurt her, but she stopped herself. Cariel was right—it _could_ be a trap, triggered by contact, trying to tempt someone into touching it by responding to their presence. Without Sammael himself physically here to control it, his grace might not distinguish between the various angels. Underwater, even a small amount of Sammael’s grace could be enough to obliterate Gabriel if it went supernova on her.

Drawing her hand back, Gabriel paced around the glowing bubble. _I didn’t know you could do this, pull your grace away from your spirit without it dissipating._

_Nor I,_ Cariel agreed, hanging back and rubbing his hands over his arms. His vessel couldn’t be feeling the cold, but something about this situation was making even Gabriel feel uneasy. _Sammael can be ingenious when he feels like it._

Gabriel nodded her agreement, flexing her wings thoughtfully. Twisting, she grabbed a handful of her own grace and pulled, but nothing happened. The grace flowed around her as it always did, not separating.

_Cariel._

_Yes, Gabriel?_

_You promised me silence in exchange for a kiss. For the kiss you stole, I expect your silence on this too._

Cariel looked at the grace, then back to Gabriel. _You’re going to cover for him._ It wasn’t a question.

_I don’t know yet. I want to talk to him first._

_And you don’t want word getting out before you’ve made up your mind._

_Now you’re getting it._ Gabriel turned and seized Cariel’s arms, her fingers bruising the human flesh that even the crushing pressure of the water above couldn’t harm. _Not a word, not to anyone. Not Zachariah, not Naomi, none of your garrisons. Is that understood?_

_My loyalty is to you,_ Cariel immediately answered. _You don’t even have to ask._


	19. To Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has finally returned to Heaven, but just when he thinks he can fix things with Michael and Sammael, more trouble crops up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is male again, woo!
> 
> I wished Eve had more of a prominent role in this story, but alas, Gabriel didn't care to interact with her.

### To Michael

“Ma!” A young man just shy of fourteen summers came running out of Sorcha’s hut as soon as Gabriel landed, flinging his arms around her waist and squeezing her tightly. “I was worried!”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, not hugging the boy back. “I didn’t mean to keep your mother so long. I lost track of time.”

“Oh! Gabriel!” The youth, Artur, knew about the divine protector of his mother’s family. While he wasn’t as attuned to Gabriel’s spirit as Sorcha, he had met the angel before when Gabriel took his mother as her vessel. “I figured Ma was with you since the food never ran low, but I was still worried.”

“I’ll always protect your mother,” Gabriel said, repeating a constant promise she made to all her vessels. “And you.” A few simple runes carved into the walls of this home constantly generated minor miracles. Whenever Gabriel took Sorcha, the runes made sure Artur never went hungry or cold and nothing ever attacked his home. Sorcha didn’t like this “cheating” when she actually _was_ home, so Gabriel made sure the spells only activated when Sorcha was gone. “Did you need anything else, before I go?”

Artur pointed to his knee and grinned unashamedly at the angel. Gabriel knelt down to inspect the nasty cut across the joint. “Your mother would have this heal naturally, so you learn your lesson and watch your feet next time.”

“But Ma’s not paying attention right now…” Artur wheedled.

Gabriel laughed and leaned forward to kiss Artur’s knee, healing the skin. Human injuries were much easier to attend to than angelic ones. “There. All better. Our little secret?”

Artur grinned and hugged Gabriel again, but Gabriel knew the young man was hugging _her_ this time and not his mother. It warmed her heart to have the love of this family, and she returned the embrace. “You be good for your mother, Artur. I have to return to my home now.”

“Safe flight, Gabriel!”

“Safe life, Artur.” Gabriel cupped Artur’s face and smiled one last time at him before brushing her fingers over his eyelids. He closed his eyes obediently, keeping his arms loosely wrapped around her as Gabriel slid out of Sorcha’s body. The woman sagged against her son, and Gabriel waited only long enough to confirm Sorcha was undamaged by the extended use of her body before winging his way back to Heaven.

Michael’s tree-like tower, growing up in the northern quadrant of Heaven, was the center of Heaven’s bureaucracy, and that was where Gabriel flew. Zachariah and Cariel had been instructed to return to their duties and leave “Sammael” alone. With Sorcha safely returned to her family, the only pressing thing left for Gabriel was to report to his own brother.

The tower was buzzing with activity as Michael’s angels kept a close eye on the running of the celestial realm. Countless Cherubim and Angels darted in and out of the “trunk,” as busy as a hive of bees. Gabriel bypassed the lower levels entirely and flew through the highest open knot. This was the lowest floor of Michael’s three private levels, usually guarded by two of his Seraphim. When Michael was working, he did not like interruptions.

The usual Seraphim were absent from the door today, but Castiel stood outside it, staring determinedly at the polished wood.

“If you want to knock it down, you’ll need to add a bit of grace to that glare.” Gabriel landed beside Castiel, clapping his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder. “Did you deliver my message?”

“Gabriel!” Castiel jumped, taken by surprise by the Archangel. Dismay flickered through Castiel’s grace, quickly smothered. “No. I tried, but you ordered me to go to Michael directly, and Raphael is guarding the door. He won’t let me in.” The young angel’s wings drooped in his failure. “Raphael doesn’t care for me.”

“Nooo, that’s not…” Gabriel laughed and ran his fingers through the feathers of Castiel’s wings. “Nah, I lie. That’s absolutely true, but it’s not just you. Raphael doesn’t like most of us. You’re in good company.”

Castiel brightened at the touch and reassurance. “I am sorry I have not-”

Gabriel interrupted with a dismissive wave. “My own fault. I should have remembered how tightly Michael locks down during a crisis. Return to your duties, Castiel. You can report to Anael that I was very pleased with your efforts on my behalf.”

“Yes, Gabriel.” Castiel was absolutely glowing as he took off again. Gabriel watched him fly for a moment. That was one little brother who needed all the praise he could receive. Father had decidedly stacked the deck against him. Gabriel only wished he knew why.

Castiel wasn’t important right now. Gabriel needed to report to Michael and get him to talk to Sammael again. If only five days had passed instead of the year or two he had feared earlier, then Michael might not have calmed down enough to have a productive discussion with Sammael, but if only five days had passed, then Michael might not be upset enough with _Gabriel_ to refuse to listen to reason. He pushed the door open with a flick of his wrist and strode into Michael’s chambers.

Raphael met Gabriel just inside with his sword in his hand. He radiated displeasure as he circled his twin. Gabriel stood still, letting Raphael scrutinize his grace for any threat. “You’re not dead.”

“You sound disappointed.” Gabriel spread his wings and turned his hands so Raphael could see he held no surprises.

Raphael narrowed his eyes at his twin, reluctantly sheathing his sword. Gabriel knew the other Archangel would love an excuse to run him through, so he made sure not to present one. Honestly, the feeling was nearly mutual. If Gabriel ever had the stomach to draw his blade against a brother, he was sure Raphael would be the one he was facing down.

“Where have you been?” Raphael demanded, still circling Gabriel even though his weapons were put away.

“Sammael was showing me a new realm,” Gabriel answered, opting for truth. A blatant lie would have shown up in Gabriel’s grace what with how closely Raphael was scrutinizing him. “I did not realize my presence was so thoroughly cut off from the rest of the Host.” That was closer to a lie. The truth was that Gabriel simply hadn’t thought about how the Host would react to his loss, so overwhelmed was he by his loss of the Host. If he _had_ taken the time to think about it, he would have realized the isolation had to work both ways. “I’m going to speak with Michael now.”

“Why should I let you past?”

“Because you can’t actually stop me.” Gabriel tweaked Raphael’s wing and winked at him before darting around his brother and up into Michael’s offices. Raphael was left snarling in his wake, but Gabriel ignored his brother’s foul mood to fly up two additional levels and slip through an ornately carved archway.

“You’re late.”

Michael was exactly where Gabriel had expected him to be, standing at one of the sealed windows on the top level of his tower, his thousand wings folded neatly (even the one Sammael had broken), hands clasped behind his back. Gabriel flexed his own wings before tucking them behind him, wishing they were a bit less wind-ruffled.

“I didn’t realize I had an appointment,” he said lightly, testing the waters to see what sort of mood Michael was in. The oldest Archangel was usually much mellower than Sammael, much less volatile, but when he snapped, he snapped hard and fast, his wrath slamming upon you with all the weight of a mountain.

“Your grace returned to this world hours ago. You took your time meeting with Sammael in the ocean. Getting your stories straight?”

Michael’s words were delivered in a flat monotone. The sheer absence of emotion was a huge warning, and Gabriel staggered back two steps. Michael was beyond merely upset. He was _furious_. At _him_. Michael’s grace showed the same lack of emotion as his voice, but Gabriel had witnessed enough of the fights between Michael and Sammael to know that while Sammael broadcasted his fury through his grace, Michael going blank foreshadowed explosive violence. Gabriel had to diffuse this situation quickly, before Michael’s control broke. Unfortunately, he had no experience to draw from for accomplishing that. Sammael never calmed Michael down. He always pushed for that snap.

Gabriel had always hypothesized that the best way to guide Michael away from the ledge of his anger was to say the two words Sammael always refused. Two words Gabriel _knew_ Michael wanted to hear; two words Sammael would never say.

“I’m sorry.”

Apologies were not beneath Gabriel. He offered Michael no excuses, no vague explanations or half-truths. He simply ducked his head and waited for the result.

The tension was already bleeding out of the room, and Michael turned away from the window. _Now_ his grace reflected his emotions—anger was there, yes, but so was fear, despair, a thread of pain, of joy, and a wash of overwhelming _relief_. Michael wiped his grace blank again, leaving only a soft blanket of the calm peace he encouraged all angels to radiate, but Gabriel knew the momentary display had been deliberate. He lifted his head, flying to his older brother, embracing him with arms and wings.

“I’m sorry, Michael, I _am_! I didn’t realize you’d think…I’m sorry!”

Michael returned Gabriel’s hug, though he kept the wing Sammael had broken tucked stiffly behind his back. “I’m just glad you’re unhurt, Little One. I didn’t want to think Sammael could have harmed you, but after his display before the Seraphim, anything was possible.”

“And you?” Gabriel reached behind Michael to touch his injured wing. Michael flinched away from Gabriel’s fingers.

“I am not healed,” the older angel admitted.

“How is that possible?” Gabriel demanded, frowning at his brother. “Even I admit Raphael is a phenomenal healer!”

Unlike grace or physical bodies, angelic wings and spirits could not heal on their own. Any injury, no matter how small, required the assistance of another angel’s grace to begin to mend. Manna could be used as a substitute, the angels had discovered, but nothing equaled the relief of a trained healer laying their hands upon the injuries. Gabriel couldn’t understand how Michael’s wing could look so much better than when Sammael first broke it and yet still be damaged.

“I didn’t let him.” Michael’s uninjured wings tightened around Gabriel, and he drew the younger angel’s hand away from his injury. “He healed me enough so I can fold my wing and appear uninjured to the rest of the Host—thank you for handling the Seraphim—but I asked him to stop at that. I’ll let him finish when Sammael has rejoined us here, where he belongs, and no sooner.”

“So you do want him home.”

“Of course I do!” Michael looked scandalized that Gabriel could even have thought Michael didn’t. “Sammael is my brother, my _partner_. He brings light into my world and my life. Without him, I am as incomplete and weakened as my broken wing.”

“I told him that,” Gabriel seized Michael’s arms, feeling his own hope growing within his grace. “I _told_ him you wanted him home. He wants to come home.”

Perhaps that was stretching the truth a bit, but Gabriel was sure Sammael would remember what a paradise Heaven could be once he came back.

“His return is entirely dependent on his behavior.” Michael closed his eyes tiredly. “Do you think that-”

“Michael!”

The brothers were interrupted by Filiel’s sudden appearance in the room, his grace spiking in distress. Filiel was Michael’s second, the oldest of the Seraphim. He was much larger than Gabriel, nearly equal in height to Raphael, but far broader across the shoulders. Gabriel knew that when Filiel fought, he wielded a sword of his grace in two hands, effortlessly cutting bloody swathes through their enemies. Filiel was a strong brother, a loyal one, and he was utterly devoted to Michael. In return, Michael trusted Filiel above even the other Archangels sometimes, frequently leaving this Seraph in charge of all of Heaven when he went out on his own business. He had never once offered to leave Heaven in Gabriel or Sammael’s hands.

Michael released Gabriel and stepped around him to greet his Seraph, his annoyance barely glittering in his grace. Like Gabriel with Cariel, Michael seemed incapable of being too upset at his lieutenant.

Gabriel wondered if Filiel ever kissed Michael.

“My apologies for not asking for an audience,” Filiel said, in a deep voice emanating from his barrel-like chest. He attempted to bow, but didn’t get very low. “I have urgent matters, a report from one of Gabriel’s choir. Barachiel.”

“Barachiel’s angels watch over and guide all of the natural forces on Earth,” Gabriel said, to remind Michael which brother Barachiel was. “Barachiel himself is one of my highest ranked Seraphim, first class.”

“What is so urgent about this report?” Michael asked, voicing Gabriel’s thoughts.

“Eve.”

Filiel didn’t have to say anything else before Michael was shouting a summons to Raphael. Gabriel winced, glancing nervously to the window as if he could see _her_. Eve. The Mother of All. Colloquially known as the evil bitch who delighted in spawning horrific monsters capable of injuring and even killing angels. Eve and her children had so far been responsible for every angelic death to date, all fifty-six of them. A disproportionate number of those were from Gabriel’s own choir. Eve and her children had called Earth their home, and Gabriel’s angels were usually the first to encounter her, much to their misfortune. Even Raphael’s angels, facing the creatures of the Borderlands, weren’t so frequently endangered.

“Report on Purgatory,” Michael snapped, whirling on Raphael as soon as the Archangel appeared. “ _Now_!”

“Nothing!” Raphael floundered for words, actually looking to Gabriel for help. Gabriel took pity on his twin, silently slotting Eve’s name into Raphael’s mind. The Healer immediately straightened, folding his wings and reclaiming his legendary calm. “Purgatory has been silent since we last opened it. Nothing has attempted to escape, not even Eve.”

Gabriel remembered the last battle with Eve, roughly seventy-five hundred years ago. Castiel had inadvertently killed off the last male unicorns, and Eve had raged at the angels for murdering her children. She had sent her most powerful sons, the dragons, against the angels, hunting any divine creature they encountered across the globe. The angels had no way to fight back—even today, they had no weapons truly useful against an enraged dragon. Gabriel and Raphael had been forced to coordinate to beat back the scaled monsters, managing to corral them over the oceans and keep them away from innocent humans. Sammael had conceived the plan to hunt down Eve herself. With help from Michael and some of his angels, the two oldest angels had managed to drive Eve into the Borderlands, sealing her away in Purgatory forever—or so they all had hoped. The dragons had lost their fight when Eve was taken from them, many of them choosing to dive into the oceans and hide. Eventually, they had all slunk away from the angels, crawling into dark caves or the deepest depths of the seas to hibernate and mourn the loss of their Mother.

Raphael, watching over the Borderlands which contained the only known entrance to Purgatory, would have known if Eve had been stirring, trying to break free. If he said there was no danger, surely there was no danger.

Michael’s focus returned to Filiel. “Explain.”

“We believe Eve has found a way to contact her children. Barachiel reports dragon sightings. The beasts are waking up. Four active ones have been spotted already, headed toward Zhong guo and Ha-yam Ha-Gadol.”

“Two of the most populous and advanced civilizations among the humans,” Gabriel offered, when Michael looked to him for an Earthly geography lesson. “If the dragons attack there, the humans will be helpless. Their development will be crippled, possibly even permanently maimed.” Humans were more resilient than angels frequently gave them credit for, but if the two biggest centers of human knowledge were eradicated, Gabriel wasn’t sure they would have the heart to rebuild.

Ha-yam Ha-Gadol was the great salt sea near Sammael’s new realm, home to the Greeks and the Romans, the Egyptians, and most of the Chosen Ones of God, descendants of Michael and Sammael’s first vessels, the humans Nuriel’s angels walked among, teaching the ways of Heaven. Zhong guo was further to the east, a land of Emperors and great technological advancements. Gabriel was particularly fond of a hot drink they prepared from the leaves of a certain plant, though he tended to add sugar to mask the bitter flavor.

“We must intervene,” Michael decided. “Raphael, Gabriel, take your best garrisons to Earth, get them envesseled, and engage the dragons. Raphael, go to Zhong guo, Gabriel, Ha-yam Ha-Gadol. If nothing else, keep the dragons away from humanity as long as possible. I’ll go into the Borderlands to reopen Purgatory. We will lock these beasts away with their Mother.”

“With all due respect,” Raphael argued, “ _I_ should go to Purgatory.”

“You don’t know how to unseal the realm,” Michael countered. “And with all due respect, Raphael, I am not sending you into that danger. I know the evils buried in Purgatory far better than even you. I will go. You control the dragons until I am ready.”

“Michael, Sammael-” Gabriel began, but Michael cut him off with a slice of his hand.

“If Sammael wishes to help, we will welcome his assistance. Otherwise, we cannot afford to spare a thought for him until this immediate crisis is over. Clear?” Gabriel and Raphael both nodded their understanding, though neither bothered to keep their unease from their grace. “You have your orders. Go.”

Gabriel took off, calling to Cariel, Zachariah, and Barachiel, his top three Seraphim, all of whom had angels skilled in maneuvering on Earth and in vessels. Fighting dragons would be hard enough without worrying about novice angels in Earth’s atmosphere. He only hoped the angels of three Seraphim would be enough.


	20. Dragons!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons are not easy to kill. In fact, even the angels don’t know how. The sword of an Archangel can hurt them, but it cannot end their lives. How else can the angels deal with these monsters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There aren't enough things that can hurt angels before the first angel war. Forgive me for taking some liberties with the dragons?

### Dragons!

In the end, seven dragons had erupted from their hibernations, roaring toward human civilizations with a long-banked rage fueling their flames. Four of them had headed Gabriel’s way, while the remaining three soared east toward Raphael. The angels and the dragons had warred with each other for weeks, clashing in superheated air, grace and swords ringing against hardened scales and slashing fangs. The monsters rested in shifts, always one waking to guard each sleeping, creating a constant onslaught that gave the angels no chance to rest. Gabriel cycled as many fresh garrisons as he could spare into the battle, but all of Heaven and Earth were suffering from the prolonged engagement. Five weeks into the fight, and Gabriel was mourning the deaths of sixteen of his brothers: two Dominions, nine Angels, and five Cherubim.

Now, Gabriel was standing back with Cariel and Zachariah, trying to strategize, while Barachiel took his turn commanding the Dominions and their garrisons. Gabriel hated asking the always-cheerful and loving Barachiel to be a battle commander, but every Seraph needed to pull their weight.

“This is ridiculous,” Zachariah growled, watching a full garrison charge one of the garrisons as it tried to escape toward land. “We can barely puncture their scales. We’re all going to die before we manage to kill even one.” His vessel was a paunchy baker, unsuited for fighting, but it didn’t matter once the angel was inside.

“Try to be a bit more negative.” Cariel folded his vessel’s thick arms, giving his brother a dry look with no venom in it. He was exhausted. All of Gabriel’s choir was. Angels needed no sleep, but they could suffer fatigue from prolonged exertion. These angels needed time to sit still and meditate, not another day of a futile battle.

“Do we have a plan, boss?” Cariel turned to Gabriel, trying to inject a bit of hope into his words.

“Of course we do!” Gabriel’s bright grin failed to reach his eyes. He himself had taken a new vessel for this battle. Sorcha deserved a chance to rest after their five day excursion, so he was now seated in the body of Atis, a temperamental cousin of hers. Atis did not smile as easily as Sorcha. His face creased in all the wrong places, and Gabriel already suspected his sour expressions would have been a better match for Raphael.

Atis was the only soul who knew for a fact that Gabriel was flying blind. There was no precedent for fighting four dragons at once. If Michael didn’t send word soon that he had been successful with Purgatory, Gabriel feared Zachariah’s prediction would come true.

“Is it to keep doing what we’ve been doing?” Zachariah asked. “Because that is working _so well_.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Zach. Best leave it for the professionals.”

“That’s enough!” Gabriel slashed a wing between his Seraphim before they could draw swords on each other. “We are _all_ tired, but we can’t let that turn us on each other.”

“You haven’t exactly given us an alternative,” Zachariah pointed out. Cariel’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.

“We’re getting the dragons off Earth. Today,” Gabriel declared. Even if Michael wasn’t ready with Purgatory yet, just moving the battle into the Borderlands would allow more angels to join and the current warriors to get a respite.

That was easier said than done, of course, but now that Gabriel had set a deadline, he could start making it possible. He was dealing with four dragons, black, gold, green, and red. Black was asleep in his human form, gently held in the claws of Gold. The three in their beast forms were streaming blood from a myriad of cuts, blood that boiled the skin of angels, and were breathing fire hot enough to melt grace upon contact. One dragon, Red, roared an order, and Green and Gold wheeled to attack an angelic formation together, scattering Cherubim before them. Red was the leader of the dragons, these monsters of heat and wings… _fire_ and _air_. Gabriel’s core, and Raphael’s. An idea was starting to form in the Archangel’s mind, a crazy idea, impossible, really.

Those were the best kind.

Gabriel held up a hand to silence his Seraphim, closing his eyes and singing out along the mental frequency used only by the Archangels. _Raphael? Bad time?_

_I’m fighting three dragons. What do you think?_ Raphael’s voice buzzed like a wasp inside Gabriel’s head.

_I’ve got four,_ Gabriel reminded him. _Count your blessings._

_What do you want?_

_Any of your strategies work?_ When Raphael didn’t answer, Gabriel smiled ruefully. _Mine neither. I’ve lost sixteen angels._

_Three,_ Raphael admitted, though there was a hint of smugness in his voice that had Gabriel’s wings snapping angrily. Death wasn’t a contest!

A warm hand smoothed Gabriel’s ruffled feathers. Cariel. Gabriel recognized his second’s touch immediately and let it relax him. They were _all_ tired, even Raphael. Fighting his twin right now wouldn’t do anyone any good. _I have an idea._

_A good one?_

_No._ Gabriel outlined the gist of his plan to Raphael. His brother’s silence when he finished was expected. It even made Gabriel smile.

_You’re right,_ Raphael finally said, his voice full of exasperation. _That is the most ridiculous strategy I’ve heard yet._

_Got anything better?_

_…no._

Now Gabriel transmitted his own smugness to Raphael. _See you at Purgatory. Try not to die first._

_You too. After all you put me through, only I get to kill you._ Raphael abruptly ended the connection. Gabriel opened his eyes to see Zachariah and Cariel watching him with concern and veiled hope.

“How are we moving the dragons?” Zachariah asked hesitantly, unsure if he’d like the answer.

“Stupidly,” Gabriel answered, knowing his Seraphim would fight him if they knew the details. This time, his grin did reach his eyes. “Zachariah, relieve Barachiel. Cariel, cover me.” He drew his sword, the long silver blade glinting in the sunlight. “I’m gonna wrassle me a dragon!”

Gabriel took off before either Seraph could protest. He climbed high above the battle and then folded his wings into a sharp dive, streaking toward the dragons as a comet of fiery grace. Cariel flew close behind, in Gabriel’s slipstream, squinting against the wind.

The red dragon was unaware of the angels descending rapidly toward him until the green dragon bellowed a warning. Twisting in midair, Red’s tail whipped around. Gabriel was too close, moving too fast to dodge, and the hard line of muscles and scale slammed into his chest. Angels all around screamed: dragons burned so hot that direct contact with their hide could be dangerous even for an Archangel.

For any Archangel but Gabriel. The collision knocked the air from Atis’ lungs, splintering his ribs, but Gabriel didn’t need those. He wrapped arms and legs around the dragon’s tail and held on tightly. The heat from the dragon burned into him, seared through his grace to flash against his core of fire. Just like the dragons, Gabriel was built around flame and heat. The dragon’s energy fed directly into Gabriel’s spirit, recharging his tired grace and reigniting the fire in Gabriel’s eyes.

Gabriel drove his sword into the dragon’s tail and used it as an anchor to pull himself forward. Red roared and twisted, trying to shake the angel loose. Gabriel scrambled up the dragon’s back, clinging to his scales or spine ridges, driving his sword in whenever Red tried to throw him off with a roll or twist. Cariel swooped around Gabriel, calling in a full garrison of Angels to help thwart Green or Gold’s attempts to rip Gabriel from Red’s back. Throughout it all, Gabriel _laughed_ , mad whoops of hysteria that were entirely out of place in the Throne Room but were perfectly fitting for the battlefield.

Red rolled again, and Gabriel clung to his sword, buried in the dragon’s back. His wings beat against the steaming air, keeping him pressed close to the rough scaled. Above him (below him?), the battle raged on over the broad stretch of waves.

A sudden smear of darkness came roaring toward him. The black dragon was awake and in his dragon form once more, huge jaws stretching wide. Gabriel swore in three languages, shifting his right hand off his sword to materialize a smaller knife of grace. It wouldn’t do much good against the dragon’s hard scales, but maybe he could get a slash in the dragon’s mouth before it ate him.

An Angel zipped between Gabriel and the black dragon, screaming a war cry as he swung his blade.

“Castiel!”

Gabriel shouted for the young angel as Black’s jaws closed around sharp wings, crunching through bone and grace. Castiel screamed as the dragon threw him aside, his pain echoed by Gabriel, helplessly watching above. A blond angel broke ranks to dive after his falling brother, but Gabriel’s view was blocked by Cariel and his angels, their blades biting into Black’s snout, driving him back.

Was Castiel safe, or had Gabriel lost his seventeenth angel? He didn’t have the time to seek out his brother’s grace to confirm. Red was undulating above him, trying to work Gabriel’s sword free. The Archangel slammed his knife between two thick scales and beat wings, kicking at the dragon’s back. “Turn over, you fucking monster!”

Red roared obscenities and breathed fire, scorching the air. Gabriel roared right back in the dragon’s tongue, drawing his sword out and driving it a little higher. Fresh, steaming blood dripped from the wound and across Gabriel’s face. The liquid boiled on his skin, and his grace burned even hotter. This was taking too long! Too many angels had already died in this fight. Gabriel wasn’t going to lose another one.

With his lips drawn back in a fierce snarl, Gabriel angled his wings and _flew_ , his feet barely needed as he propelled himself upside-down along the dragon’s back. He ripped his blades out by the force of his movement, dodging the dragon’s powerful wings. A fireball exploded over his back—apparently dragons were as immune to flames as Gabriel was—setting his wings on fire. The Archangel whooped in laughter, flaring his wings wide, drawing the flames into his feathers. Just as Michael’s wings turned into steel in his battle form, Gabriel’s wings could morph into sheets of flame. It was harder to fly on wings of fire, but the damage he could deal with the powerful appendages were often worth the slower speeds. Raphael and Sammael had battle-forms as well, with Raphael’s wings turning into huge arcs of lightning, while Sammael’s wings froze into deadly rows of icicles. All other angels simply had a sharp edge to their feathers they could use when battling.

Gabriel beat his flaming wings against the dragon, howling a war cry that was echoed by his choir. He pushed off against the dragon’s back, trying one more surge to run up the beast’s neck, driving his blades into the base of the dragon’s skull.

Red screamed and thrashed, righting himself in the air. Gabriel straddled the dragon’s neck, squeezing with his thighs to stay in place. “That hurt a little? Good!” He twisted his sword with a snarl, driving it further through flesh and bone. “That’s for all my brothers you’ve killed!”

Red breathed fire again, but Gabriel yanked the deeply-buried sword sideways, coupling the action with a powerful beat of his wings. Red’s head jerked to the left, his fireball splashing harmlessly against Green’s chest instead of the angels he had been aiming at. His whole body followed his head, and Gabriel drummed his heels against the dragon’s scales in pleasure at his success. “Just like riding a horse!” He leaned back, hauling on the sword to point Red’s head upward. “C’mon, big boy. Your momma’s waiting for you!”

Red snarled and twisted, but his flight followed his head, and Gabriel was in control of that. The dragon _had_ to beat his wings to stay airborn, but every beat propelled him upwards. Black, Green, and Gold circled below, harried by the angels and crying their confusion.

_Come on, come on…!_ Gabriel needed them to follow Red. None of his other angels could ride a dragon like this—none of them had elemental cores. Raphael, as Archangel of the Air _and_ of Healing, could maybe manage, but even he would be battling the constant threat of being burnt by the dragon’s heat.

Gold was the first to break upward, flying with a fierce purpose. He tore above Red and dropped down, landing on the dragon’s back in human form.

_Shit._

Red was trying to toss his head, and Gabriel was already using both hands to hold him steady. He could use his wings to hold Gold back, but he risked countering Red’s upward movement with his own wingbeats. Gold’s main weapon as a human was his heat, which would strengthen Gabriel, but the dragon could also try to physically throw him off his brother and wrest control back. A spell _maybe_ could work, but verbal-only spells were notorious for not performing as expected.

Gold grinned sharply as he grabbed at one of Gabriel’s wings, the fire not bothering him in the least. Gabriel jerked it sharply and yelped as the dragon proved stronger, nearly wrenching it from its socket. The angel battered the dragon as best he could with his lesser wings, the flames doing nothing more than singeing the dragon’s clothes, but Gold held tight.

“Gabriel!” Cariel’s arrival was heralded by a rush of feathers. Zachariah and Barachiel were right behind him. “Pull in your wings, and forgive us!”

The three Seraphim dove toward Gabriel’s back. Zachariah’s sword was out, slicing down. Gabriel yanked his free wings forward.

Sudden, blinding pain flashed through his wing, a flare of pure grace exploding from the wound. Gabriel screamed, yanking back hard on the sword still embedded in Red’s head. Behind him, Cariel and Barachiel plucked Gold from Red’s back and dropped him over the empty air, their hands instantly charred from just the few seconds of contact. Gabriel’s severed wing turned to ash in Gold’s hands moments before Gold transformed back into his reptilian form.

Hissing through clenched teeth, Gabriel forced his left hand to uncurl from the sword and shoved it down the flat of his blade, pushing it into Red’s head. Hot dragon blood bubbled through his fingers as muscles parted and bone cracked. Gabriel grabbed a handful of sticky, squishy brain and _pulled_ with his grace. His fire and the dragon’s clashed, pulled apart, raged together. Gabriel was shoulder-deep inside a dragon’s skull and glowing from the overload of sheer _power_.

Red-hot light raced up Gabriel’s arm, and he could feel the dragon launching into his own mind. Gabriel flung his grace around the beast’s consciousness. _Gotcha! Sorry, Red, but it’s an angel-eat-dragon world today!_

Keeping the dragon’s mind firmly leashed, Gabriel rushed down the new connection into Red’s brain. He opened reptilian eyes and beat leather wings against the sky. Atis’ weight on his neck was insignificant but awkwardly located. Far more distressing were the twin spikes of agony from his arm and sword. He felt a peculiar churning in his gut and vomited flames, melting an innocent cloud.

“Help me!” Gabriel shouted through Red’s throat. The words came out as a draconic roar. Three dragons below bellowed reassurances, promises of vengeance, as they all rocketed upward. Gabriel roared again and forced enormous wings to beat harder, propelling Red away from his pursuing brothers.

Eight Dominions, two per dragon, flickered into existence above the reptiles. They folded their grace into the Borderlands and pulled, ripping open a dimension gate to the in-between world. Red/Gabriel shot through first, with Gold right on his tail and Black and Green immediately behind.

As soon as the greyness of the Borderlands closed around him, Gabriel could hear the horns of Michael’s garrisons. Two fresh garrisons of Angels came flying toward him, creating a corridor to herd the dragons down, leading them toward Purgatory. Gabriel’s angels shed their vessels as they raced after the dragons, bolstered by the presence of another choir. A bright light ahead called to Gabriel. His brother was there.

Gabriel reached out for Michael, gasping as the stretch strained his hold on both Red and Atis. _Ready?_

_Yes, just,_ Michael called back. _Raphael is almost-_

Gabriel had to drop his connection with Michael as Red thrashed against his grace, nearly breaking his hold. His grace was still overcharged, but the throbbing in his borrowed head was wreaking havoc with his concentration. He could hear shouting, angels calling to each other, and then in front of him suddenly was another red dragon, an Archangel snarled among his wings. _Raphael!_ The two dragons nearly collided, but Raphael managed to swerve away.

“Now!”

Greyness split open at Michael’s shout, a gaping maw of darkness to Gabriel’s left. Twenty armored Seraphim held the hole open, straining at the edges. Raphael was closer, spurring his dragon in before leaping away from its wings. The dragon shrieked as it fell into Purgatory. Michael and his remaining Seraphim darted across the portal, slashing at inky tendrils that tried to escape. Gabriel wheeled to the left and roared for the other dragons to follow. The ones chasing Raphael turned toward him as well as Gabriel folded his leathery wings, diving toward the pit. He had to time this just right… Now! Gabriel released Red and tried to leap away, but the dragon sunk claws into Gabriel’s mind, screaming rage directly into the Archangel’s brain. He was frozen on Red’s back, unable to release…

“Gabriel!”

Purgatory welled around him, and Gabriel gave a shout of fear. Strong fingers grabbed one his wings and yanked back, straining the muscle and wrenching the joint. Red tumbled into the darkness, the other dragons following with two choirs of Seraphim at their backs.

“Close it!”

Gabriel felt Michael’s voice more than he heard it, a deep rumble behind him. Michael was holding him, Michael’s hand was still clamped around his wing, and Michael’s grace was cocooning his overactive one. Gabriel’s ears were ringing. His head felt split in two, the stump of his severed wing burned in agony, the rest of his flight muscles screaming from the strain, and his grace roiled within him, too much energy against the restraints of his vessel. Atis was sweating, his skin slowly reddening with the excess heat.

Michael dropped to his knees, dragging Gabriel with him. He was rumbling, speaking again, but the sounds held no meaning for Gabriel. His head lolled against Michael’s chest. When Raphael appeared above him, lightning wings sparking brightly, Gabriel jumped in surprise.

Raphael’s grace was worn and haggard, a sluggish trickle of energy as opposed to Gabriel’s raging inferno, but he still cupped his hands against Gabriel’s face. Gabriel closed his eyes as Raphael’s electric grace touched his. The excess energy in his body surged forward, flooding his twin. Raphael jerked against the heat but did not let go. As Gabriel’s partner, Raphael could share his grace without serious ill effects, even though their elemental cores were so different. He could siphon Gabriel’s excess energy into himself and use it as his own.

As Gabriel’s grace drained to a more normal level, his senses returned. He could hear Michael directing the Seraphim, murmured acceptances of orders, and Raphael muttering under his breath about stupid brothers possessing dragons.

“Not stupid,” Gabriel mumbled. “Brilliant. Pulled seven dragons off Earth forever.” He held up one hand, trying to show seven fingers, but Atis only had five. Frowning, Gabriel split his fingers until he could hold up seven.

Raphael snorted and pressed Gabriel’s fingers back together. “Just because it _worked_ doesn’t make it smart,” he retorted. “I thought I was going to lose my arms!”

“But you didn’t.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes and reached up to cover Raphael’s hand on his face with his own. His brother was flushed with the extra grace now, just about fully recharged. Gabriel had restored him, and now Raphael was returning the favor, working the spiky headache out of Gabriel’s mind.

“ _You_ lost a wing!” Michael exclaimed, his hands finding the stump where Zachariah’s sword had sliced through flame and grace. “And this… this was done by an angel?”

“On my command.” Cariel dropped to his knees beside the three Archangels, pressing his forehead down, unusually submissive before the trio. “A dragon had his wing; we had to free him or the plan would have been ruined. Forgive me, brothers. I reacted without proper thought.”

Gabriel reached for Cariel before Michael could declare a punishment, laying his hand on his Seraph’s head. “You did what I would have ordered, if I had the time to think about it. Thank you. Please give Zachariah my gratitude.”

Raphael grumbled, turning Gabriel in Michael’s hold to reach the ruined wing. “So says the one who _doesn’t_ have to rebuild this. You’ll take decades to fully heal.”

“Gather the choirs,” Michael instructed the nearby Seraphim. “Naomi. Take the angels home, have Alastair debrief them as instructed. No angel present here should speak with one not here until Alastair has had a chance to give them direction. Assess the damage. I will have your report in an hour.”

By the time the rustling of feathers faded away, Gabriel could sit up on his own again. He flexed his shortened wing, extinguishing the burning flames to return to his usual feathers, and nodded gratitude at Raphael. “Are _you_ hurt?”

“No.” At Michael’s pointed look, Raphael flared his wings to show his lack of injuries. “The dragon scorched me, but Marmoniel kept healing me. Michael. Your wing.”

“It’s fine. _I’m_ fine.” Michael folded his wings back, but Gabriel did not miss the flinch of pain in his grace. Nor could he miss the black stripes pained across Michael’s spirit, his _spirit_ beneath the protection of his grace.

“What _happened_!?” Gabriel grabbed Michael’s arm, staring in horror at the brands around his brother’s wrists. Both wrists, ankles, neck, waist, wings—something had tried to bind the first angel.

Michael gingerly withdrew his limb and rose to his feet. “The Leviathan of Purgatory and I have… a history. When they felt me so close, they could not resist the chance to drag me down with them.”

“Do they hurt?” Gabriel pushed himself to his feet. Beside him, Raphael did the same, his hands clenched so as not to reach for his injured brother.

“These marks do not,” Michael assured the twins. He wrapped a lesser wing around each when they didn’t stop their scrutiny. “They are just stains, like ink, and they will fade soon enough. They cannot hurt me anymore than the color of your hair can hurt you.” He gave one of Gabriel’s red curls a tug. “I promise you, my wing is the only injury I still bear.”

“Then let me-” Raphael reached for Michael’s wing, but Michael gently pushed him aside.

“No. Not until Sammael comes home. And speaking of home, we should return. Are the two of you fit to fly?”

“Yes Michael,” the twins chorused. Michael gave them both one last caress with his wings before taking off toward Heaven.

Michael didn’t fly like he used to. He kept his broken primary wing tucked in against his back, relying on his hundreds of other wings instead. His flight was economical now, straightforward, not the graceful dance he used to share with Sammael. Gabriel had to tamp down on his sadness before it showed. Michael really was missing a huge piece of himself without Sammael. The sooner the brothers could reconcile, the better.


	21. Stay with Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the fight with the dragons, Raphael and Gabriel utterly fail to work together.

### Stay with Michael

When Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel finally pushed back through the gates of Heaven and landed just inside its walls, Raphael touched his grace to Gabriel’s and whispered privately into his mind. _Check on the Seraphim. Distract them. I want to try to heal Michael once more._

_Force it on him if he tries to be a stubborn ass,_ Gabriel agreed with a nod. _I’ll even let you blame me._

Rare moment of agreement done, the twins separated. As Raphael prowled up behind Michael, Gabriel flew for Sammael’s tower, where he knew Naomi would have gathered the angels awaiting Alastair’s debriefing.

“Gabriel! Here!”

Cariel’s voice lifted among the usual talk of the Host, and Gabriel banked left, coming to land before his Seraphim. The three had their Angels near, clustered at the base of the tower. Barachiel and Cariel still had charred hands, their dragon-burnt grace needing the attention of a Healer. Zachariah hung back, eyeing the Archangel warily.

Gabriel parted Barachiel and Cariel with brushes of his wings and stepped in front of Zachariah. The Seraph immediately ducked his head, his eyes lowered. “Gabriel, I am sorry.” The weight of having raised his sword against an Archangel was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

“Did Cariel pass along my gratitude?” Gabriel asked, reaching out to catch Zachariah’s chin and tilt his face back up. He cupped his hands around the Seraph’s face and kissed his brow, murmuring a blessing against his Seraph’s spirit. “Don’t apologize, Zachariah. In time, my wing will heal fully, and your actions saved us from losing control of the battle. As I told Cariel, I would have ordered you to cut off my wing myself, if I had the time to think about it.”

“It was my idea,” Cariel reminded Gabriel quickly. “I ordered it. To save you. Everyone.”

Gabriel looked back at Cariel, raising one red eyebrow. His Seraph was trying to look as innocent as a Cherub, but Gabriel had a good idea what the imp was angling for. He consented anyway, turning to catch Cariel’s face in his hands and offering him the same blessing against his spirit. Cariel twitched, as if he wanted to steal another proper kiss, but he restrained himself. Gabriel was grateful. He did not want to have to punish Cariel for inappropriate behavior in public.

He wasn’t entirely sure Cariel kissing him would be completely unwelcome.

To make things fair, Gabriel kissed a blessing to Barachiel’s brow too. Then he stepped back to survey the trio. “How did our choir fair?”

“No new deaths since you took the red dragon,” Cariel reported. “Forty-six are wounded, in need of Healers.”

“Including you?”

“Yes sir.”

“And Castiel?” Gabriel remembered the Angel who had sacrificed himself to keep Gabriel safe. Castiel had fallen, but Gabriel couldn’t remember feeling his grace burning out. Of course, just about everything else had been burning at the time, so Gabriel wouldn’t have been surprised if he had missed the younger angel’s death.

“Balthazar caught him,” Zachariah grumbled. “One of my Dominions, Ezekiel, removed them both from the battle before you seized the red dragon. Castiel’s wings are in tatters, but he’ll live.”

“That dragon nearly bit him in two!” Gabriel was impressed by Castiel’s resilience. “Our Father must have plans for him. See that Marmoniel is the one to heal his wings. I want them fully restored, no scars or stiffness to hinder him.” Raphael’s second, Marmoniel, was much gentler than her blustery choirmaster and nearly as talented a Healer. Gabriel didn’t trust Castiel in Raphael’s hands, but he knew Marmoniel would always put aside any ill feelings to ensure her patients received the best treatment. “See that all those needing Healers will be tended to, and report to Alastair as soon as he calls for you.”

“Why?” Cariel asked, frowning a little. “Why is _he_ doing the debriefings?”

Alastair was one of Sammael’s Seraphim, a younger one with a reedy voice and long, clever fingers. Alastair and his garrisons were in charge of the education and re-education of angels. They could manipulate memories, some said, reprogram angels, completely remove their personalities and leave them as naïve and obedient as fledglings. Gabriel did not like Alastair, but Sammael found the Seraph entertaining.

Gabriel shook his head at Cariel’s question. “I don’t know. Michael set something up in advance of his charge on Purgatory. It _shouldn’t_ be a re-education, so just… do as Alastair asks, unless you feel he’s about to manipulate your minds. I want you all intact. When you’re through with him, return to your duties on Earth. Try to clean up any mess the dragons left.”

“And you?” Cariel asked.

“I’m going to speak with Michael. I’ll be in Heaven for a bit, and I’ll let you know if I leave. Go. You know what to do.”

Gabriel waited for his Seraphim to head off in search of Healers before he flew north to Michael’s tower, climbing up to his brother’s chambers. Naomi was waiting there in a seat across from Michael’s desk, hands and wings folded primly, but neither Michael nor Raphael had returned yet.

The Seraph looked up when Gabriel entered the room, looked away, and then looked back. She rose to her feet and crossed to Gabriel’s side, one light hand settling on his arm. “Archangel Gabriel. You vanished from the known realms for five days. Have you been debriefed on your experiences?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the hand on his arm, otherwise remaining silent and still until Naomi pulled her hand away. “No, Seraph, I have not, and I will not report to you.” He didn’t usually throw his rank around, preferring the younger angels look up to him as a big brother instead of a stern boss, but Naomi was one angel who needed to be taught her place. She was far too friendly with her superiors, and Raphael indulged her fantasies of usurping his position. Naomi fancied herself equal to, if not better than, Gabriel himself. It was bad enough when Raphael was so arrogant. He, at least, had earned a modicum of respect. Naomi had earned nothing but scorn from Gabriel.

Naomi spread her wings in frustration. “It is my _duty_ -”

Gabriel silenced the Seraph with a snap of his fingers, his usual patience for his younger siblings completely spent. “Oh, shut _up_. I’ll tell Michael what happened. Not you. Let him decide if you get to hear it.” He crossed behind Michael’s desk and draped himself in his older brother’s chair. “Now, how about you give me your report on the state of Heaven after that battle? I’ll make sure Michael hears the important stuff.” He snapped his fingers again, returning Naomi’s voice.

“I report _directly_ to Michael!” Naomi hissed, slamming her hands on the desk across from Gabriel.

“I outrank you,” Gabriel reminded the Seraph.

“You do not lead my choir!”

“No, I don’t. But I’m the one in the big chair, behind the big desk.” Gabriel spread his arms, gesturing to the setup. “So you’re going to make your report, and then you’re going to leave. Michael doesn’t need to deal with your crap on top of everything else today.”

Naomi was about to protest, her grace spiking, but Gabriel tutted a warning and held up his hand, ready to snap. The Seraph snarled, but she grudgingly folded her wings and drew in her grace. “ _Fine!_ All seven of the draconic threats were successfully locked away in Purgatory. Twenty-six of our brothers are dead: one Seraph, Filiel, three Dominions, twenty-one Angels, and a Cherub.”

“Do you know their names?” Gabriel interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“The twenty-five other angels who died. Do you know their names?”

Nuriel. Ramiel. Andraiel. Veron. Molach. Gabriel knew the names of all sixteen of the angels killed in his choir. Debriel. Chaiper. Fereniel. Edel. Tramon. Each loss was a separate, stabbing ache in his heart. Hondier. Solmar. Kilidri. Belorel. Viphel. Trondiel.

Gabriel knew he had little to complain about. The fallen Seraph, Filiel, had been Michael’s second in command, the very first Seraph to die. Gabriel couldn’t imagine losing Cariel. He couldn’t imagine how Michael must feel now. Michael probably watched Filiel die, trying to open Purgatory.

Still, sixteen of Gabriel’s brothers had followed him last month, sixteen had looked to him with complete trust and love, and sixteen were now gone forever.

“I have a list, here.” Naomi set a piece of paper on the desk, full of names. Gabriel flipped it over. Michael didn’t need to see the names immediately.

“What else should I tell him?”

“Keeping Purgatory’s location hidden is proving successful.”

“Successful?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “A large portion of three choirs was present. That’s not exactly keeping things hidden.”

“Michael has his ways,” Naomi folded her arms defiantly at Gabriel. “Let him decide if you get to hear what they are.”

_Alastair._ Gabriel’s jaw tightened. The “debriefing” would cut memories of Purgatory’s location out of all of the participating angels. Gabriel wanted to fly to his choir, to warn them, but he restrained himself. Michael wanted to keep Purgatory’s location hidden for a reason, and Alastair was very refined in his work. So long as all he removed was the memory of Purgatory, Gabriel could allow it. Reluctantly. “What else?” he ground out.

“Sammael’s choir grows restless. They want to know why Sammael wasn’t visible in the fight. They want their leader.”

“Don’t we all,” Gabriel muttered, pressing his fingers against his forehead. His head was aching again, but not from having an arm jammed into his shared brain. “Anything else?”

Naomi’s wings were high and tight in annoyance as she answered, “Nothing of import. The full report-”

“Leave it.” Gabriel gestured to the desk. “I’m sure Michael will read it later. You can go.” He flicked his fingers at Naomi, shooing her away.

After the Seraph left, Gabriel slumped forward and massaged his head. He needed to return his vessel to Earth, stretch his grace out and work off his post-fight jitters. Raphael had restored him to his usual power level, but it was still a frantic dancing fire, not the steady burn he was accustomed to.

Gabriel _wanted_ to fly back to Sammael, to be wrapped in his brother’s wings again, sheltered from the world. Michael always made things _right_ , but Sammael always made things _better_. Sometimes, the difference between the two was enormous.

Heaving himself out of Michael’s chair, Gabriel went to the window. If he focused, he could make out the gathered angels around Sammael’s distant tower, the numbers starting to dwindle as Alastair worked his way through them. The injured angels were clustered together for Marmoniel and her garrison of Healers. Raphael himself would be needed for some of the most severe injuries, after he finished tending to Michael. Gabriel did not envy his brother the task.

A sudden breeze ruffled Gabriel’s feathers, heralding the entrance of said brother. He turned, then dove into action. Michael was slumped against Raphael’s side, wings limp, his whole form drooping. Raphael’s grace was infused with anger as he held Michael up. Gabriel slid under Michael’s other arm, supporting his brother. “What happened!?”

“You’re the one who said to use force!”

“ _You_ did this?”

“Bolt of pure grace to the back of his head. He’ll wake soon enough,” Raphael grumbled. “Help me lay him down. Careful of his wing.”

Gabriel helped Raphael ease Michael to the floor, snapping his fingers to summon up some cushions for his brother to rest on. Raphael spread Michael’s broken wing so he wasn’t pinning it in an awkward position, his gentle fingers contrasting with his expression. The wing looked a lot healthier, but a deep investigation with Gabriel’s grace revealed the bone was still cracked. “You didn’t heal him?”

Raphael flicked his wings at Gabriel. “I mended it enough to be used without injuring himself further, but left it damaged enough to still hurt. You know he’d have my head if I healed it fully, or worse, he’d just break it again himself.”

“But _why_?” Gabriel demanded, more of his unconscious brother than his conscious one. He smoothed Michael’s white feathers under his fingers. “Why does Michael insist on the injury?”

“It distracts him,” Raphael said.

“Exactly!”

“No, that’s _why_.” Raphael touched his fingers over the center of Michael’s chest. “He’s hurting _here_ , Gabriel, a gnawing pit of darkness that I can’t heal. Only his Light Bringer can brighten it. He _loves_ Sammael, more than me, more than _you_. Maybe even more than Father.”

“I know that,” Gabriel mumbled, pressing his hand against Michael’s chest. He knew what a dark emptiness felt like. He had genuinely been alone in Sammael’s realm, with only one brother for company. How much worse must it be to be completely surrounded by brothers, and only missing the one you needed? “But _we’re_ here for him.”

“You weren’t.” Raphael was cold as he watched his twin. “Sammael turned on him, and you disappeared. The two angels he loves the most, gone. Filiel assisted me in keeping Michael contained, lest he snap like Sammael. We were giving orders we claimed were his, to not scare the Host. When your grace signature reappeared, he came back to us, but before then…”

Gabriel hunched his shoulders, an unpleasant feeling of guilt pressing down on them. He shouldn’t have flown blindly after Sammael. He shouldn’t have stayed as long as he did. He shouldn’t have forced Raphael and Filiel to run Heaven alone.

_Filiel._ “He’s dead,” Gabriel whispered to Raphael. “Filiel. He was killed in the battle.”

Raphael swore just as quietly, his great wings sweeping around as if to cradle Michael. “You _cannot_ leave,” he ordered Gabriel.

“I wasn’t going to-”

“ _No._ “ Raphael was quiet but firm, gathering an aura of power around him. It resonated in his voice, the spread of his wings, the height of his form. Gabriel knew all the tricks to puff up for the lesser angels, but he’d never had it turned on him. The results were… impressive. Intimidating, if he was going to be entirely honest. He ducked his head and lowered his wings in a submissive display, though it rubbed his feathers the wrong way to present one to Raphael. His twin accepted the gesture without crowing over it. “You _must_ stay in Heaven now, until Michael releases you. No running off to Sammael, no hands-on monitoring of Earth. You can manage your choir from your tower.”

“Raphael, I know how to stay in Heaven,” Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes.

“Do you?” Raphael challenged. “Michael is not going to order you to stay. He probably won’t even ask. But he will _need_ you.”

“I _know_!” Gabriel didn’t like being talked to like he were a fledgling again. “I was just going to return my—have _Cariel_ return my vessel to his home, and then I would set up shop in my tower—shut up.” Raphael hadn’t said anything, but his smug look when Gabriel almost said he’d leave Heaven spoke volumes about his perception of Gabriel’s competence. “I’ll stay here, okay? Cariel can be the Messenger’s messenger.”

“About Cariel.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at his brother. “What about Cariel?”

“You spend a lot of time with him. Especially recently. Maybe you should cut back.”

“He is my second!” Gabriel snapped, flinging his arms out. “Of course I spend a lot of time with him! He helps me run my choir! You spend time with Marmoniel, and Michael was always consulting Filiel.”

“Michael needs to be your first right now,” Raphael answered calmly. “Not Cariel.”

“Michael does come first! Cariel is second!”

“Which is why you wasted time kissing Cariel in the ocean instead of returning to Michael’s side?”

Gabriel’s wings flared in offense as Raphael’s smugness practically radiated across Michael. “How did you-”

“You just confirmed it.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw, looking down at Michael instead of at his twin. “But why did you suspect-?”

“I have my ways.”

Cariel wouldn’t have told anyone. Gabriel did not doubt his loyalty. No one else had been in the water with them. Zachariah and his garrisons had been above the ocean—could one of them have seen? No, Cariel hadn’t asked for the kiss until they were beyond the limits of even angelic sight. No one else had witnessed the Seraph stealing a kiss from his superior, and Cariel would never, _never_ betray him. Not to _Raphael_!

“Michael will need your attention and love focused on _him_ , not on a lesser brother.” Raphael was speaking again, managing to upset Gabriel further with each word he spoke.

“There is nothing _lesser_ about Cariel or any of our younger brothers! I will not sit here to be lectured on assumed improprieties by a brother who spies on me!” Gabriel leapt to his feet, clenching his hands into fists so he wouldn’t lash out at his twin. “I will stay in Heaven for Michael, but that doesn’t mean I have to answer to you!”

“If you can’t handle being accused of impropriety, then perhaps you shouldn’t be so improper!” Raphael flowed to his feet as well, looming over Gabriel again, but Gabriel wasn’t about to back down this time. He loomed right back, spreading his wings and letting fire crackle among his feathers, between his fingers. “I didn’t set my spies until after you began!”

“I don’t spy on you!”

“Hester and Ion report to you weekly!”

“They are my friends! I don’t end friendships simply because they are now in your choir!”

“Then why did you-”

“ _Stop it!_ “ Michael, awake now, surged up between the pair, shoving them apart with his wings. “Raphael, Gabriel, you are brothers! Partners! _Twins_! Can’t you _pretend_ to like each other for _one fucking day_?”

No one could loom like Michael could, towering above the quarreling Archangels, his thousand wings stretched wide, blocking the light of Heaven from his younger brothers. Gabriel cowered beneath his brother’s anger, covering his head with his wings as he did in God’s presence. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

“Sorry, Michael,” Raphael echoed, mirroring Gabriel’s submission.

The oldest angel held his anger for a moment longer before releasing it, his grace sliding blank. Michael curled his broken wing forward, examining the injury. “You healed me.” His voice was flat, as blank as his grace. Gabriel was not fooled into believing the danger was past.

“Not entirely,” Raphael assured Michael. “Just… some.”

Michael flapped his wing and gave a nod, tucking it against his back. “You rendered me unconscious.”

“I… yes, Michael.”

“I did not know that was possible.” Michael paused with a flicker of annoyance. “Do not do that again.”

“No, Michael.”

“Now, Naomi-”

“I sent her away,” Gabriel piped up. “She made her report to me and left the full write-up on your desk.”

“I see.” Michael strode to his desk, flipping over the list of the dead. Gabriel lifted his head to see Michael tracing Filiel’s name with a finger.

“Michael?”

“Leave me.” Michael bowed his head, hand clenching over the list. “Both of you. Go.”


	22. Cariel Forgot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fighting with Raphael, Gabriel goes to sulk in his tower, where Cariel has developed selective amnesia.

### Cariel Forgot

Gabriel and Raphael both bolted from Michael’s tower as soon as they were dismissed, heading in opposite directions. Gabriel heard Cariel call out for him, but he didn’t stop. Cariel could see the direction he was flying and know his destination.

In the western quadrant of Heaven, Gabriel’s tower spiraled into the air, red glass stretching out like tendrils of fire ( _like molten sulfur, dripping onto Sammael’s skin as Gabriel pinned him to the rocks below. He sang her name in worship as she worked her body over his_ ). Gabriel shook his head to clear the memory and skimmed over the dangerous spikes to land at the top. It felt like centuries had passed since he was last here. He never cared much for the minutiae of sitting still and reading reports on a good day, but with the constant feuding between Michael and Sammael, Gabriel had frequently tried to find any excuse he could to slip away. With all the concern about his presumed death before the massive dragon battle, Gabriel was not looking forward to his return welcome.

Several of his Cherubim greeted the Archangel enthusiastically as Gabriel reentered his tower, rushing to hug him tightly in the fashion his Cherubim had adopted instead of bows, and accepting warm, slightly-forced smiles before dashing off to alert the others in the tower. Gabriel had to stop and greet six of his lower Seraphim before he made it into his personal chambers. Cariel was already there, as his familiar presence wasn’t nearly so exciting to the rest of the choir and he hadn’t been delayed by well-meaning choir members. The Seraph was reclining in Gabriel’s chair, his feet upon the desk, his healed hands tucked behind his head.

“Hello, Boss.”

“Out.” Gabriel jerked his thumb over his shoulder, muffling his pleasure at seeing Cariel relaxed and ready to assist. Whatever Alastair had done clearly hadn’t affected Cariel’s personality any.

Cariel slipped from Gabriel’s chair and moved around the desk, sitting in one of the lower chairs there. “You look tense,” he remarked as Gabriel dropped into his own seat. “Did Michael chew you out, or was it just too much Raphael for one century?”

“Bit of both, more the latter.” Gabriel sighed, sinking his head into his hands. “He has no fucking right to demand I…” He trailed off with a groan, giving up on hands entirely to let his head drop to his desk. “Raphael knows what we did in the ocean,” he mumbled.

“In the ocean?”

Gabriel lifted his head enough to peer across the desk at his second. Cariel’s head was cocked to the side, a very confused frown on his face.

“What did we do in the ocean?”

“The…” Gabriel flapped a hand uselessly between them, frowning himself. “You’ve forgotten it already?”

Cariel shook his head slowly. “Gabriel, I don’t remember ever being _in_ the ocean with you. We’ve been on plenty of beaches, but you don’t like going into the water.”

“Just before the dragons.” Gabriel pushed his head off his desk. “We were looking for Sammael. Zachariah and his garrisons were above. Barely more than a month ago, Cariel. You don’t remember?”

“I remember… you were missing. Then you were in that cave, and I rushed to your side. Then you returned to Heaven to speak with Michael.” Cariel’s frown deepened. “That’s not what happened?”

“You’re missing about three hours there.” Gabriel stared over at his second; surely Cariel wouldn’t have denied that kiss when it was just the two of them. He was too genuinely confused. “ _Alastair_ ,” Gabriel growled in realization.

Cariel’s eyes widened. “You think he stole those hours from me?”

“He was only supposed to remove the location of Purgatory!” But Alastair was following Raphael these days, while he waited for Sammael’s return. Alastair could have easily seen the kiss, removed the memory, and told Raphael before Raphael joined Gabriel in Michael’s tower. Raphael “had ways” indeed…

“Cariel… may I see what he did to your mind?” Gabriel gestured across the desk at Cariel’s head.

Cariel hesitated, a trace of wariness in his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Gabriel frowned at his second. “I thought I had your loyalty.”

“You do!” Cariel was quick to assure Gabriel. “I just…” The slight embarrassment that fizzled through Cariel’s grace gave the truth away.

Cariel didn’t remember kissing Gabriel. He didn’t remember admitting that he cared more for his choirmaster than a Seraph should. Alastair hadn’t affected Cariel’s personality. Those feelings would still be in Cariel’s mind, but his Seraph thought it was a secret he needed to keep hidden. Gabriel softened a little at his lieutenant.

“Cariel, I promise, there is nothing you can think privately that would make me love you any less. You are my valued second, my closest friend. Please, let me see how much damage Alastair did.”

Now that he was looking, Gabriel could see the way Cariel’s grace pulsed at the praise, brightening as Gabriel said he loved him. It was a subtle little glow, but it was definitely there. Cariel _did_ love Gabriel, and probably had for centuries, if not millennia. Gabriel reached across the table for his Seraph. Cariel lifted a hand to meet Gabriel’s, lacing their fingers together. “Okay.”

Cariel was still scared, but he trusted Gabriel. Such a display of devotion never failed to warm Gabriel from the inside out. He leaned across the table a little further, touching two fingers to Cariel’s forehead and closing his eyes.

It was all too easy to slip inside Cariel’s mind. Gabriel skimmed over the surface, trying to ignore how much Cariel was thinking about how their hands were still clasped together. He pressed into Cariel’s memories, gently flipping through his Seraph’s understanding of the past.

A few little holes were clipped out of the dragon fight, here and there, pieces Gabriel recognized as identifying how to find Purgatory. The memories were completely gone, not rewritten or hidden. Cariel’s memories had been seamlessly stitched together around the gaps, but Gabriel could recognize the tell-tale puckering of modification. He paused for a moment to examine a memory of Cariel watching Gabriel wrestle with the dragon, feeling Cariel’s bitter fear clawing at his throat, the desperate urge to _do something_ as Gold grabbed at one of Gabriel’s flaming wings. Looking at it this way, Gabriel realized the full scope of his insanity. How had he ever managed to pull off mind-controlling a _dragon_!?

It had worked out in the end. All the rampaging dragons were removed from the earth, and no additional angels had died. Gabriel tucked away that memory with a little smile and pushed further back.

Cariel hadn’t been lying. His memories jumped from cave to dismissal with no detour into the water. Gabriel flipped back and forth several times, willing that kiss to return, but there was nothing. Cariel had no recollection of making a move on Gabriel, of revealing the secret he’d been carrying.

Gabriel slid back further in Cariel’s memory, finding the moment when Cariel realized Gabriel was alive again. He’d been here, sitting in Gabriel’s chair, staring blankly at the door Gabriel would always enter through. His whole _being_ was choked with sadness, and the songs of the Host in his head were quiet and mournful, searching for their lost Archangel. 

All of a sudden, a flare of grace ignited in the corner of Cariel’s mind, and the Seraph had sat up straight, his wings spread wide and trembling. He hadn’t even taken the time to fully confirm the identity of the bright angel before he was gone, ripping through the planes as fast as he could to materialize at Gabriel’s side.

There was Gabriel himself, or herself, rather, curled on the stone and gasping for breath. _Relieflovejoy_ flooded through Cariel, chasing away the sadness, and for one dizzying, maddening moment, Cariel had wanted to grab Gabriel into his arms and kiss her soundly, to hold her tight and never let go. Riding the high of Cariel’s emotions, Gabriel was almost swept away by the sheer intensity of how much his Seraph loved him.

Distress allowed Cariel to regain his own senses, distress as Gabriel flinched away from him, cringing from his halo. Gabriel frowned at this memory of himself, hating how pale and weak she looked. No wonder Cariel had been so worried. Sammael’s realm truly was a draining place. Was it having this effect on Sammael too? Gabriel had to get him out of there, had to return him to Heaven before it was too late.

Giving himself a shake, Gabriel extracted himself from Cariel’s memories, slipping back into his own mind and letting his hand drop. “They’re gone,” he told his Seraph. “Those hours have been completely cut out of your mind. I can’t restore them for you.”

“What happened?” Cariel asked. He was searching Gabriel’s grace with his eyes, looking for something. Rejection? Gabriel squeezed his fingers against Cariel’s, refusing to let his Seraph think Gabriel thought anything less of him for his love. “In the ocean? What happened that Raphael knows about? Why did Alastair remove that time?”

Gabriel should tell him. Cariel deserved to know what he had done and how Gabriel had responded. But… Gabriel looked at his Seraph and had no idea where to even begin with him. Cariel _loved_ him, as he loved Michael and Sammael. Could he love Cariel the same way? Was that fair to any of his brothers? Cariel was a Seraph, younger, weaker, subordinate. It absolutely would not be proper to indulge in a relationship with him.

And yet, Gabriel found himself wanting to kiss Cariel again, to see if every kiss was as electric as that first one or if it had been a fluke.

Michael needed Gabriel’s attention now, though, and Cariel would want Gabriel’s attention if they did try anything. It wouldn’t be fair to Cariel to offer him a chance and then pull away with a “sorry, maybe later.”

“Nothing important.” Gabriel drew his hand away from Cariel and smiled at the Seraph even as he lied with an ease born of long practice. “It… we had agreed it wouldn’t be spoken of anyway, what Sammael had done down there. It’s better that you don’t remember.”

Gabriel didn’t feel guilty for lying to Cariel, but he did feel guilty that he didn’t feel guilty. He was just too accustomed to lying these days for it to bother him anymore. “I’ll be speaking with Alastair, making sure it remains contained. Thank you, Cariel, for your help these past few weeks.”

Cariel frowned a little, but he nodded, slowly rising to his feet. “You’re welcome, Gabriel. Is there anything else?”

“I’ll be spending most of my time with Michael for the foreseeable future,” Gabriel said. “I won’t be leaving Heaven again for a couple months, at least. Could you return Atis, my vessel, to his family? Give him my thanks.”

“Your wish, my wings.” Cariel stepped around the desk to support Atis as Gabriel slipped out of the human. He picked up the unconscious man easily, cradling him in his arms before flashing away.

Gabriel remained standing, staring blankly at the spot where Cariel had been just a moment earlier. Was this what it meant to lead? Making unpleasant choices? Gabriel hated it. The sooner Heaven was back to normal, with Sammael supporting Michael as the true leaders of the Host, the better.


	23. Gabriel and Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has chosen a temporary second and calls Gabriel back later to talk about their wayward brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving me kudos and reviews. I know I'm an unestablished author in this fandom dropping an epic on you, but I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to give me a chance!

### Gabriel and Michael

Heaven was filled from wall to wall with laments to the angels who died fighting the dragons. For weeks, the ululating songs echoed through every angel’s head, and the heavy sorrow kept the Host low to the ground. They walked through Heaven, only flying when they absolutely needed to, and even then, soaring barely above their brothers’ heads.

Gabriel put in a request to have a meeting with Michael the day after the dragon battle ended. Two weeks later, he was still waiting for his brother to summon him. Michael’s choir had the most reorganizing to do, as he needed to replace his second and elevate a lower angel to the rank of Seraph. Gabriel did not pressure his brother to move any faster. If Cariel had been killed in battle, Gabriel knew he himself would have been useless for months, if not years. Still, he was aware of how much time was passing on Earth. Sammael was waiting. Gabriel had promised him “soon.”

Cariel slipped into Gabriel’s office and held out a note. Gabriel reached for it, but Cariel drew it back, holding it just out of the Archangel’s reach. Gabriel frowned at his second.

“You’re not going to like this,” Cariel warned, before he held out the note again. This time, he let Gabriel take it.

The note was a simple acknowledgement of Gabriel’s request, scheduling an appointment with Michael for that afternoon. The Archangel of Heaven’s schedule had been cleared, it said, so they could have the entire afternoon and evening to discuss ‘whatever it is’ that was so important. “Why wouldn’t I like this?” Gabriel asked. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Look at who authorized it,” Cariel said, pointing to the signature at the bottom. Ordinarily, this would be where Filiel’s spiky scrawl confirmed the authenticity of the message. This time, it had the rounder loops of Michael’s new second.

Naomi.

Gabriel crumpled the acknowledgment in his hand with a growl. Cariel just nodded in understanding. “Nearly did that myself. She’s been angling for a promotion for centuries. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if _she_ caused Filiel’s death just to get that position to open up.”

“Spreading such gossip would be a sin,” Gabriel chided, chucking the ball of paper across the office. “Make sure it’s true before you repeat it again.” Cariel was smirking as Gabriel left his office.

Naomi was practically radiating self-satisfaction as Gabriel approached Michael’s tower. She gave the Archangel a bow as he stepped inside, but her smile was anything but friendly. “Michael is waiting in the Crown,” she said, referring to the uppermost observation deck of the northern tower. “Have him back by tomorrow. He has a very busy day.”

“You’re his assistant, not his nanny,” Gabriel snapped back. “He’ll be back when he’s back, and you’ll adapt.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes at Gabriel, but the Archangel swept past her, stalking up the stairs to find his brother.

Michael looked smaller than Gabriel remembered, sitting on the edge of his tower, leaning forward and looking out over Heaven. His wings were loose and spread behind him, trailing over the branch-like decorations of the tower roof, the feathers in an unusual ungroomed disarray. His entire grace was tinted with a spirit-deep sadness, highlighted by the fading black smudges that still wrapped around his spirit. Gabriel sat quietly beside his brother, looping an arm around Michael’s waist and encouraging the older angel to lean against him. Michael moved easily, nestling into Gabriel’s shoulder with a little sigh.

Sammael had waited two months already. He could wait a bit longer. Gabriel leaned his head against Michael’s and sung softly, an ancient lullaby the older angels would sing to him when he was a fledgling, whenever they wanted him to quiet down and let them rest. It was the only thing they had discovered that would ever get the young Archangel to sit still, cuddled up against them and humming along, one little hand clutching at feathers bigger than his own wings.

As Gabriel had hoped, Michael’s lips twitched in a little smile when he recognized the song. His eyes drifted closed, and he reached over to stroke his fingers over Gabriel’s gold-edged feathers. “You’ve grown up so much since those days, Little One. So changed.”

“For the worse?” Gabriel asked lightly, earning a slightly stronger smile from his brother.

“For the better. You make me proud, every day.”

Gabriel smiled, turning his head to kiss Michael’s forehead. The gesture was less meaningful in Heaven, where their spirits had no nerves to register the texture of the caress, but the intent was still there. “I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, I will always love you.”

“And I you.” Michael opened his eyes and lifted his head to meet Gabriel’s gaze. His fingers brushed along the Messenger’s cheek, and Michael leaned in to touch their lips together gently in a symbolic gesture. “Even if you leave us, Gabriel, I will still love you.”

“Leave?” Gabriel hadn’t told anyone about Sammael’s proposition, not even Cariel. How could Michael have known that he had even _considered_ abandoning Heaven?

“I’m not blind.” Michael settled back against Gabriel’s shoulder, utterly calm in spite of what he had just suggested. “Nor am I ignorant of Sammael’s plans. He’s wanted to tear away from Heaven for centuries, longer even than he’s been exiled.”

“Really?”

Michael nodded, that sadness swelling through his grace. “We quarreled about it, even before he challenged Father. You always thought we were so perfect, you and Raphael, but…” He sighed, closing his eyes, his mouth twisting in old pain. “We hid our fights from you, just as the four of us hid them from the rest of the Host.”

“How long?” Gabriel couldn’t believe Michael and Sammael had _ever_ fought before that fateful day in the Throne Room. Playful bickering, yes, friendly sparring, of course, but never genuine _arguments_!

“After our first vessels. Hevel and Qayin. After what Qayin did. Sammael was horrified. He blamed himself, doubted himself, thought it was foreshadowing what would happen to us. Thought it meant _he_ was capable of turning on his brother. On me.” Michael shook his head. “It was a self-fulfilling prophecy in the end. His thinking it was possible _made_ it possible. Made it real. He wanted to run. To find some other universe, where he wasn’t bound by Father’s plans.”

“He created a new realm,” Gabriel said.

“Did he?” Michael didn’t sound surprised. “My Light Bringer always wanted to be a Creator like Father. He always loved to watch when Father worked, and he asked so many questions.” Michael fell silent, just watching Heaven for a few minutes, before he spoke again. “Did he ask you to join him?”

Gabriel hesitated before nodding, knowing Michael would sense the gesture even without looking.

“Sammael is my partner, but you are more like him than I ever will be,” Michael said. “You both delight in the new and the different. You’re so curious, wanting to change everything, to make it better. You take far more risks than I ever dare to, and you both frequently border on absolutely irreverent and blasphemous.” Michael smoothed his fingers over Gabriel’s fingers and gave another one of those sad little smiles. “Sometimes, Gabriel, I would be jealous of how deep your connection was with my partner.”

“All the time, I would be jealous that you _had_ a connection with your partner,” Gabriel confided, closing his eyes and tightening his arm around Michael. “I… I _hate_ Raphael, and I hate that I hate him. I’d watch you and Sammael and… and I wanted that. I always wanted that. But I couldn’t ever say anything, or the Host would pity me, for having such a broken partnership.”

Michael sat up a little more, winding his arms around Gabriel and pulling him close. Now it was Gabriel’s turn to settle against his brother, his fingers finding Michael’s soft feathers. “Sammael… he asked me to be his partner in his realm, to leave Raphael with you.”

“Did you say yes?” Michael’s voice was still calm, not judging Gabriel at all, but Gabriel still shook his head emphatically, pulling back so Michael could see the truth in his face.

“No. Absolutely not. For many reasons. I mean, I was tempted, yes, but… Sammael is _your_ partner. You’re the perfect one with him. I’m just glad you two always let me tag along. I can’t take him from you, I have no _right_ to take him from you, even if you two have been fighting. And Raphael’s my partner, for better or worse. I need to accept him as he is. But… but also, Sammael’s realm is terrifying. It’s incredible, but it’s also _wrong_. He’s warded it so not even Father can enter. I was completely cut off from the Host there. I’ve never felt so empty before, or so small. I can’t leave Heaven for that. Heaven is my home. The Host is my family.”

“Sammael is forgetting that, the longer he stays away.” Michael looked away from Gabriel, taking in the view of Heaven again. “I sometimes fear that by exiling him, I’ve condemned him to this. I just wanted to give him _time_ , time and space to come to his senses, to want to come home.”

“That would mean admitting he was wrong,” Gabriel said. “You know Sammael would never admit such a thing on his own.”

“I know,” Michael agreed. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Talk to him.” Gabriel sat up straighter, untangling himself from Michael so he could look his brother in the eye. “Go to his realm, to his territory, and be willing to just _talk_. And _listen_. He wants you to listen, Michael. He wants to explain himself to you, wants you to understand him. He misses you; I know he does. When it was just the two of us in his realm, it was harder to hide emotions from each other. He loves you, and he misses you, and he just wants you to understand him.”

“We haven’t had much luck with talking recently,” Michael pointed out.

“Because you’ve always talked with a judgmental audience.” Gabriel took Michael’s hands in his, his wings stirring a little in hope. “In his realm, not even Father can overhear you. You’ll both be free to say whatever is on your minds, in your hearts. No one will judge you or punish you. You can just… come together. Like you used to. He misses you at _least_ as much as you miss him. Please, Michael. Please try. For me. For him. For Heaven.”

Michael’s wings flexed thoughtfully, and he looked back over Heaven, his eyes drifting south and fixing on the icy spike of Sammael’s tower in the distance. “Do you think it has a chance to work?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered immediately. “If you both try to listen to each other, I think it does.”

Still staring at Sammael’s tower, Michael gave a slow nod. “All right. I’ll try.”


	24. Sorcha's Demise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before going back to Sammael, Gabriel needs a vessel. Somehow, things have gone horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting ready to meet one of the canon-characters-with-an-OC-name! I say getting ready... they've already shown up! But their identity will be revealed next chapter!

### Sorcha’s Demise

Sammael’s realm wasn’t technically on Earth, so Gabriel wasn’t sure if the unvesseled time limit applied there or not. He and Sammael had both been envesseled the entire time he was there. Michael agreed it was probably better to be safe than sorry, so the brothers split up to find vessels before talking to Sammael.

Gabriel landed in Sorcha’s hut, his eyes widening in shock as he looked around. The little home was a burnt out shell, devoid of all life. He veiled his grace and stepped out into the village, immediately pressing his hands over his mouth in horror. The whole settlement was dead, crumbling homes and blackened ground testifying to the tragedy that had occurred. Somewhere in the distance, someone was digging. Otherwise, there was no sound; even the birds weren’t singing. In the center were the remnants of a bonfire with a badly charred body hanging from a stake. Gabriel stepped up close and squinted at the remains, just barely recognizing Sorcha’s face beneath the damage.

“No…!” Gabriel touched the burned rope holding her in place, dissolving it and catching her body. He had promised her she would be safe. He had promised he would _always_ look out for her and her family. Artur. Where was Artur?

The digging stopped. Gabriel hastily set Sorcha down before someone could see her body being held by an invisible force. Heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of the sole human in a fifty-mile radius. Atis.

The man scrubbed a soot-blackened arm over his sweaty forehead, looking at the bonfire and Sorcha’s corpse. He spat on the ground and scuffed his foot over the dirt. “Gabriel? You here?”

Gabriel couldn’t answer Atis directly—his voice hurt Atis’ ears, as the man was not a true vessel like Sorcha had been. He did lift Sorcha’s arm, waving it gently to catch Atis’ eye. The man scowled at him. “Fat load of good you were.”

 _I didn’t know…_ Gabriel hung his head, tucking Sorcha’s arm back over her chest. He hadn’t felt _anything_! Granted, the dragons had been extremely distracting, but he still would have felt the runic wards he’d placed all over this village as they were triggered from the danger. He could have stopped this. A _Cherub_ could have stopped this, if he’d only realized…

“They’re not all dead.” Atis folded his arms, shifting his weight as he glared at Sorcha. She was apparently easier to focus on than the invisible angel sitting over her. “That witch managed to massacre all the children of the village and half the adults before they could bring her down. Survivors burned her, burned the whole place, and fled this cursed land. Went that way.” He pointed off to the east. “Found ‘em fleeing, after you dumped me off in the woods. They wouldn’t let me come, said I was just as cursed. You’re not exactly very popular right now. They think you’re some sort of evil spirit who’d just been toying with them.”

 _I didn’t do this!_ Gabriel scowled himself, getting to his feet and approaching Atis. The man had no warning before Gabriel was prodding his forehead, sending him into a deep sleep. He caught Atis’ body and laid him down gently before sketching a protective circle around him and slipping into the human’s dreams.

“Could ask a guy before you go mind-whammying him,” Atis grumbled, in the dream-village he was standing in. None of the buildings were damaged here, but they were just as empty as the real thing. “Could wait for him to give permission, you know.”

“I couldn’t exactly speak with you when you were awake.” Gabriel crossed his own arms at the man, looking around. Here, in this dream, he looked like Atis’ ancestor, Vindonnus, the first vessel Gabriel had ever taken. He was wearing linen clothing like Atis and Sorcha’s people, but otherwise, his dream-body was the same as the ancient warrior. “Atis, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Figured as much. They’d’ve killed me on the spot if they’d seen my face helping with this mess. Still. I thought you were protecting us.”

“I _was_!” Gabriel stomped over to the nearest house, pointing at a mark above the door. “Every single one of your homes has this protection! If there’s any sort of big danger, like a fire or murderer, these would have warned me!”

“Did they?”

“No.” Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know why. They’ve always worked before.”

“Can they be broken? Could Sorcha have broken them?”

“They _can_ , but it requires a bit more than a human can do on her own. I mean, you can drive an axe into it and it’ll break, but I’ll also feel it break.” Gabriel ran his fingers over the mark, tracing the symbol and feeling the protection thrumming from it. “There were thirty of these sigils in the village. One or two could maybe slip my attention, but I would have noticed all thirty of them breaking.”

Cariel had been the one to return Atis to Earth, weeks ago, after the dragon attack. He hadn’t said anything about the village being destroyed, but then again, if he had dropped Atis off away from the village so as not to risk injuring anyone, perhaps he hadn’t known.

“How can it be broken without tipping you off?”

Gabriel shrugged. “An angel probably could do it. A Seraph or Archangel, someone powerful. Maybe a spell, maybe a pagan god could have intervened and done something. A witch probably could do it—but Sorcha wasn’t a witch by any definition of that word!” 

“All the survivors say she’s the one who rampaged. Killed her own boy, then all the other kids, in _your_ name. Killed anyone who tried to stop her. They said they stuck her full of arrows and she still kept coming. Took a spear through her foot to get her to stop enough for them to subdue her. The fire was the only thing that stopped her for good.”

Gabriel curled his arms around his chest, squeezing his eyes closed and shivering. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he whispered. “Sorcha… I _promised_ she’d be safe. Artur…” How could this have happened? How could _Sorcha_ have thought Gabriel wanted her to eliminate everyone?

“I had a child, Gabriel. A little girl. She was three years old.”

Melida. Gabriel remembered her. She was a cheerful baby, like her mother had been. She was the only thing that could get the grumpy Atis to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She will be in Heaven now, with her mother.”

“You think that helps!?” Atis clenched his hands into fists, ducking his head. “I don’t want this life. I don’t want to stay here with my whole family dead, the rest gone. I don’t want to live as an outcast, a wanderer. I don’t want to bury my little girl, my whole village, and somehow keep surviving.”

“I can…” Gabriel tilted his head back, looked up at the dream-sun. All of his potential vessels had been in this village. The Cherubim had attended to Vindonnus’ bloodline well, stretching it out and folding it back in on itself, kneading it with expert hands to continually create the strongest humans to house the power of an Archangel. Those who married into other clans quickly had their affinities to Gabriel wither, their children unable to accept him as his vessels. With the children dead, Vindonnus’ bloodline was endangered. If the few survivors didn’t have new children, Gabriel might never be able to take another vessel. Atis was still young enough to remarry, and he was probably the only one who didn’t believe Gabriel was an evil deity. Keeping Atis alive would be ideal, so he could continue Vindonnus’ line.

It would also be cruel, forcing the man to live this devastated life. Gabriel couldn’t be cruel, not after everything Atis had given for him. “I could remove your memories,” he offered. “I can take away the things that cause you pain, bring you to a new clan that would accept you. You can restart your life.”

“I don’t want to forget!” Atis snarled at the angel. “They were my _family_ , you self-centered _prick_!”

“Or I could kill you.” Gabriel didn’t flinch at Atis’ words, knowing he deserved them. “I… I need a vessel right now. If you let me borrow your body one last time, I will take you back to Heaven with me. You’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up again, you will be in Paradise, with the souls of your daughter and your wife.” Heaven wasn’t _quite_ like that, but most humans never realized the difference. “I would do this for you, Atis, for all you have done for me.”

“I’d be back with them?” Atis asked. “You promise?”

“I give you my word. I will _personally_ deliver your soul into Heaven.”

Atis eyed Gabriel skeptically, as if trying to judge how much his word was worth these days, before he gave a blunt nod. “Then that’s what I want. Bury my body near my wife and daughter. I want to be with them forever.”


	25. Lucifer Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tide is changing for the angels. Gabriel has brought Michael to their brother to bring about peace, but Sammael may have other ideas…

### Lucifer Rising

Michael was waiting outside the cave when Gabriel showed up. Today, his vessel was an elderly Egyptian man, wrapped in soft linens and sitting in the sun. He’d spread his wings behind him, pulling them into his lap one at a time to groom. He looked up as Gabriel landed, finishing straightening the last few feathers before tucking the wing behind him again and getting to his feet. Despite his vessel’s advanced age, Michael moved easily, ignoring the physical limitations of the man. “Usually, you’re the first to claim a vessel. Did something distract you?”

Gabriel didn’t answer at first, just pressed up against Michael’s chest, clinging to him desperately. Michael’s grace was surprised, but his arms automatically folded around Gabriel’s shoulders. After a moment, his wings followed, completely wrapping Gabriel in his grace and sheltering him from the world.

“Little One, what’s wrong?”

“They’re dead,” Gabriel whispered. “My vessels. They’re dead, and the surviving ones think _I_ did it!”

“What do you mean?” Michael dipped his head to look at Gabriel’s face, a little frown making the wrinkles on his own face grow deeper.

“Sorcha, my true vessel Sorcha, she started killing everyone in the village!” Gabriel squeezed his arms tighter, drawing his wings around himself. “She said she was doing it in my name, but I didn’t… I don’t know what happened! I didn’t even know anything had happened until I got there!”

“And who is this?” Michael touched Gabriel’s cheek, still frowning.

“This is Atis. I was in him, fighting the dragons, when all of this happened.”

Michael sighed and folded his arms around Gabriel again. “I’m sure their souls are all in Heaven now. You can find them and apologize to each individually once we’ve returned.”

“Not Sorcha,” Gabriel mumbled against Michael’s chest. No one who had killed her own child, and then her entire village, would have been allowed to find peace in Heaven.

“No,” Michael murmured. “But maybe you can find her wandering spirit and put it to rest. Give her absolution.” He ran his fingers through Gabriel’s hair and gave him one last squeeze before slowly drawing back. “First, let’s speak with Sammael. Then you can do whatever you need with your vessels.”

Gabriel nodded and took a deep breath as he pulled away, straightening his wings and tucking them back. “All right, let’s go. You’re going to get wet.”

Reaching the entrance to Sammael’s realm was just as unpleasant as it had been the first time. The steaming river felt like it was trying to rip Gabriel’s wings from his back. Even Michael was grimacing from the unpleasant feel when they landed, though Michael didn’t mind water as much as Gabriel did. He shook his wings off, except for his broken one, which he dried with a wave of his hand. “I’ve been this far before. We couldn’t get past his warding.”

“He has it keyed to me,” Gabriel said. “I’m not sure if he’s added you yet or not. Let me check.” Michael nodded his understanding, and Gabriel stepped through the barrier.

The overwhelming darkness slammed into Gabriel, but he was expecting it this time. It still knocked him to his knees, one hand clutching at his chest, but after a moment of just gritting his teeth, he was able to fight off the clawing emptiness.

Sammael’s realm _felt_ darker than before. Gabriel pushed himself to his feet, drawing his wings around himself as he looked around nervously. His brother was nowhere to be seen, though Gabriel could feel the tiny spark in his core that meant he wasn’t completely on his own here. Prickling fingers of cold tapped along his spine, piercing through to his spirit and making him shiver. Before, this realm had been infused with a welcoming heat. Maybe Sammael had only done that when he knew Gabriel was going to be visiting. His brother always did burn cold.

Ignoring the discomfort for now, Gabriel turned to look up at the wall of sigils. His name was still etched among the other marks, but it wasn’t as pristine as it had been last time. The edges of the Enochian script were corroded, and trails of that yellow pus that bled down the stone were starting to collect in the hollows of the letters. Not far below, Michael’s name was scratched into the stone, shallower than Gabriel’s name, sloppier, a hasty addition that could easily be removed if Sammael changed his mind.

It was enough to give Michael entrance for now. Gabriel gave his deteriorating name one last look before he stepped back to where Michael was waiting.

The flood of awareness wasn’t painful this time. Gabriel hadn’t been in the other realm long enough to get used to being so empty. The Host filled his mind with relief, and his Father’s lingering presence soothed the discomfort. Michael was standing in exactly the same position he’d been in when Gabriel had left, looking vaguely startled.

“I expected that to take longer.”

Gabriel shrugged. “The wards are carved right onto the stone on the other side. He’s added your name, so it should be safe for you to pass now. He’s in there, but he’s deep in the bowels of the realm.”

“You look unsettled.” Michael stepped closer to put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“I’d forgotten how the emptiness felt.” Gabriel reached up to cover Michael’s hand. “It’s going to be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, Michael. It’s going to feel like you’re completely hollowed out, like you’re nothing, like you’re dying. You’re not. It’s going to be okay. I’ll be right there beside you. Just focus on something else until your spirit adjusts, like on your breathing.”

“I understand,” Michael said.

“No, you don’t.” Gabriel shook his head and took a deep breath to steel himself before turning back to the entrance. “But you will.”

The two Archangels stepped through the gate together, hand in hand. Gabriel sucked in a breath through his teeth as the Host was ripped away from him again, and Michael’s hand spasmed against his own. Gabriel managed to stay standing, but Michael crumpled immediately, grunting in pain, his free arm wrapped tightly around him.

Gabriel crouched beside his brother, remembering how Sammael had guided him through this the first time. He pulled Michael into his lap, cradled him against his chest, and wrapped his wings around them both. “Shh, it’s okay, Michael. You’re going to be okay. I’m here. I’m right here. Just breathe. Focus on my breathing. Match your breathing to mine.” He slowed his breathing, made every breath deliberate, rubbing Michael’s back and wrapping his grace as tightly around the older angel as he could, to shield him from the cold _nothing_.

Michael eventually calmed, his grip on Gabriel easing up. He drew back, wiping a shaky hand over his face. “Feels like the Void,” he admitted quietly. “Before Sammael.”

Michael rarely spoke of the time before Sammael’s awakening, and he also stayed quiet on the first years of Sammael’s life, when he had to have been a precocious fledgling. The earliest stories Michael would easily share involved Sammael in-between, not quite fully grown, but not the pudgy ball of grace that all angels started off as. Those were some of the earliest stories Sammael knew too. He didn’t have much recollection of his time as an infant angel, which was unusual. Many angels theorized that it was because life had been _too_ perfect for those first angels, when it was just them and God with nothing in the way. They were all envious of the time Michael had spent as the only angel in existence, the only company their Father had. Michael had to have spent all his time with God, thoroughly embraced by their Father’s spirit.

Gabriel suspected otherwise. His own early memories of the Void were massive expanses of cold emptiness, only made tolerable by the presences of his brothers. God had been all around them, yes, but he was just as distant then as he was now. From what little hints Michael occasionally dropped, like this one, Gabriel suspected his oldest brother had spent his own fledgling years largely alone in that nothingness. He had never considered just how empty that Void would have been without the Host to fill his spirit.

“Sammael’s here,” Gabriel murmured, helping Michael back to his feet. “This emptiness is only temporary.”

Michael nodded, pressing his hand over his core one last time before straightening up. He looked at the wall of sigils and shuddered. “Something in that mess is corrupted.”

Gabriel nodded. “That’s what I thought too, but I can’t untangle Sammael’s work. He covered his tracks too well to undo it.”

“Don’t stay down here too long,” Michael warned, pointing to Gabriel’s name. “It’s starting to infect your name. Linger, and it’ll infect your spirit.”

“Sammael’s been down here for months.”

Michael met Gabriel’s eyes and nodded solemnly. They needed to get Sammael out, _today_. His name was probably at the heart of the warding, poisoned long ago by whatever had gone wrong. The longer his spirit stayed here, the higher the chance of permanent damage to it.

First, they had to _find_ Sammael. Gabriel turned toward the bone walkways and beckoned for Michael to follow him. “This way to go deeper.”

“I thought you described this place as incredible,” Michael muttered as he stayed close by Gabriel’s side, watching where he put his feet. “It looks like we’ve been swallowed by something from a nightmare.”

“It’s gruesome,” Gabriel agreed, “but if you can look past the material, the design is really quite elegant. And there’s not so much bone in the lower levels.”

Michael shook his head in disagreement, warily eying the ribs arching up. The woven mass of tree roots above their heads creaked and groaned as the angels passed, tendrils dripping bloody sulfur reaching between the bones for the brothers. Gabriel reached over to grab Michael’s hand, shying away from the roots.

“Sammael said it was safe.”

Sammael said it was safe as long as Gabriel _stayed with him_. Suddenly, that detail felt very important.

The cold brushed over the angels’ exposed skin, like frozen breath against their faces. Michael squeezed Gabriel’s hand and strode forward, the set of his shoulders defiant in the face of the vague hostility of the trees above. Gabriel hurried to stay close, pulling his wings into his vessel to keep them free from the sulfur.

The magmafall was still ahead, roaring into the darkness. Gabriel sighed in relief as they broke through the forest and felt its heated embrace. Even Michael managed a little smile. “Was this your design?”

“It was his, actually, but he put it in for me.” Gabriel stepped onto the spiral walkway and stretched his hand out to catch some of the molten rock in his fingers. This part of the realm still loved him. “I worked on some of the lower levels. I can show you.”

“Sammael first.” Michael gently tugged Gabriel away from the magma and started down the path. “He has to know we’re here.”

Sammael appeared sooner than they had expected, his grace flaring from a distant spark to a sudden bright flame as he unveiled himself fully, leaning against a crystal offshoot from the path the brothers were on, still wearing the Greek vessel he’d been in the last time Gabriel was here. He threw a sword at them, which Michael automatically caught. “Present for you, _Brother_.” There was a sneer in his voice, though his face was pleasantly neutral.

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, looking at the sword. It was wrought from a dark steel, polished until it gleamed, its blade whisper sharp. Michael hefted it in his hand, held it out and took a few practice swings with it. The blade was well-balanced, but it paled in comparison to a full Archangel’s sword.

“Did you know that dragon blood solidifies if it meets the cold ocean?” Sammael asked instead of answering. “And if you gather it up before it sinks, you can work it into metal, and that metal can be turned into a weapon?” He gestured to the sword Michael held. “Dragonsbane there can _kill_ a dragon.”

Both Michael and Gabriel looked sharply at Sammael, and now the Archangel smiled at them, a serpentine stretch of his lips. “Most dragons hide in the oceans these days. I tested it.”

“They can be killed with their own blood.” Michael swung the sword again before materializing a sheath for it, strapping it around his waist. “That makes a certain amount of poetic sense. Thank you, Sammael, for discovering their weakness.”

Sammael’s face twisted into a grimace, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“Sammael?” Gabriel asked, glancing at Michael nervously before cocking his head to the side. Was this a side effect of the corruption to the wards? Was it stealing Sammael’s identity from him?

“Yes, _that_.” Sammel shook his head again, flicking his hand as if trying to shoo away something disgusting. “I want to be called Lucifer now.”

“Lucifer?” Michael repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“It means-”

“Morningstar, or… Light Bringer. I know.” Michael glanced at Gabriel himself before spreading his wings slightly, shifting into a more open posture. Accepting. He was making an effort, Gabriel noted, to not upset Sammael. “Why did you pick Lucifer?”

“It was the name _you_ gave me,” Sammael answered. “I like it. Why shouldn’t I choose a name given to me by my favorite brother?”

“I’ve never called you Light Bringer, Sammael,” Gabriel pointed out, earning himself a cool glare from Sammael and a nudge to his side from Michael’s elbow. “Sorry. Lucifer.”

“Then it’s a good time for you to start.” Sammael turned away from the pair and strode off into his realm. Michael and Gabriel looked at each other one more time before Michael started off after his partner, Gabriel trailing behind.

“Lucifer is a very nice name,” Michael began. “But what was wrong with Sammael?”

“It’s not _my_ name.” Sammael looked over his shoulder at Michael with a frown. “It was forced upon me. Lucifer is the name _I_ choose.”

“You were named as every other angel was. Father gave you life when He named you.”

“ _God_ created me as His obedient little toy when He named me, same as He did for you and Gabriel. I am _not_ His plaything. I will not obey Him anymore, and I will not answer to His name for me.”

“S-Lucifer!” Michael hurried forward to grab Sammael’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “You shouldn’t speak about Father like that!”

Sammael wrenched his arm free from Michael’s grasp. “He can’t hear us here, and you still defend Him? He is not _my_ Father.”

“Father is-”

“ _You_ raised me, Michael. If anyone deserves to be called my father, it’s you. Not _Him_. He has done _nothing_ to earn that respect.”

“Clearly, I didn’t raise you well enough!” Michael snapped back. “Father gave you _life_!”

“Stop it!” Gabriel shoved himself between the older angels, throwing his wings open wide to push them apart. “Just _stop it_! Sammael, Lucifer, you promised you’d talk if I brought Michael here. Michael, you promised the same. That the two of you would _talk_ , and you’d _listen_!”

“Soon.” Sammael curled his fingers around Gabriel’s wing, tugging him closer. “You promised you’d return _soon_.”

“I did!” Gabriel didn’t try to fight Sammael’s pull. He knew Sammael was capable of breaking his wings if he resisted too much. “I came as soon as I could!”

“You abandoned me, Gabriel.” Sammael’s voice was a dangerous purr as Gabriel found himself pressed up against Sammael’s chest. His older brother looped his arms around him, and Gabriel felt scared in Sammael’s embrace for the first time ever. “You _left_.”

“I came back!”

“ _This,_ “ Sammael leaned in, his lips brushing Gabriel’s ear, “isn’t _soon._ “

“Let him go, Lucifer.”

Michael was standing right beside them now, his strong fingers wrapped around Sammael’s arm. Sammael’s grey eyes met Michael’s dark ones, and the air between them crackled as their graces shoved together. Eventually, Sammael’s lips curved into a smile and he opened his arms. Gabriel scurried back, unconsciously tucking himself behind one of Michael’s wings. He cursed to himself once he realized what he’d done—hiding like a fledgling was no way to convince Sammael to take him seriously.

“You came back. Congratulations. Cake for you.” Sammael turned away from his brothers and started walking again.

Michael touched Gabriel’s face. _Are you okay?_

Gabriel nodded in answer to Michael’s question. _He’s changed._

_Not for the better._ Michael brushed his thumb along Gabriel’s cheekbone before heading after Sammael again.

The realm had grown in Gabriel’s absence, new tunnels and huge chambers branching off to places he had never seen before. Eventually, Sammael led them to the deep pit Gabriel himself had carved out. The gurgling rasp of something struggling to breathe echoed against the stone. Sammael ignored it as he spread his wings and glided to the bottom of the pit.

Fire still licked along the stones, unearthly flames that had been ignited by traces of Gabriel’s grace. They danced around Sammael’s feet, illuminating his target. A metal rack, glowing dully from the heat, stood in the center of the pit. Strapped to it was a vaguely human-shaped creature, mewling pitifully.

“ _Lucifer._ “ Michael hissed his brother’s assumed name, his eyes narrowing. “What is _that_!?”

“A point I’ve been trying to make for centuries.” Sammael stepped up to the creature, cupping its chin in his hand and peering into the blind, white eyes. “This, dear brothers, is a human. I call her Lilith.”

“Lucifer!” Michael stepped forward as if to pull Sammael away from the human, but he recoiled at the pathetic-looking thing strapped to the rack. “What have you done!?”

“I have been proving my point,” Sammael repeated, narrowing his eyes at Michael. “Humans are vile, twisted creatures. _This_ is what remains, when they are stripped of their fleshy exteriors.”

“This is a soul?” Gabriel asked, creeping closer in little spurts, trying to will himself close enough to see how much of the damage was reversible. Something seemed vaguely familiar in the curve of the soul’s neck, the bow of her lips.

Her lips, because this was a female soul. Gabriel suddenly felt the coldness of this realm penetrate, piercing his soul and freezing his grace. _Sorcha!_ A whimper escaped his throat as he surged forward, trying to free his vessel from Sammael’s iron rack.

Sammael lashed out with a sharp wing, whipping it against Gabriel’s hands and driving him back. “Don’t touch her! She’s not done yet.”

“Lucifer!” Michael swept in to catch Gabriel, holding him back and wrapping a wing around him. “Stop it! Gabriel, let me see.” He curled his fingers around Gabriel’s hands, where Sammael’s wing had cut into Gabriel’s fingers, making him bleed.

“That’s Sorcha!” Gabriel tugged his hands away from Michael’s grasp, reaching for the tortured soul again. “Michael, that’s my vessel!”

“The one who attacked her village?”

Sammael laughed, he actually _laughed_ , leaning in close to the rack and running his fingers along Sorcha’s ruined face. “It took hardly any persuasion at all, Gabriel, to get your precious little vessel to turn on her own family. I’m afraid she isn’t suitable for you anymore. Lilith is my creature now.”

“I promised her my protection,” Gabriel whispered. “How could you?”

Sammael had done this. Sammael had… no, _Lucifer_. Lucifer had poisoned his Sorcha, had driven her to murder, had told her it was Gabriel’s will. Gabriel’s wings shivered in horror as the realization washed over him. Lucifer, once his beloved brother, had intentionally tried to destroy his vessels. The tall angel standing before them was not Sammael anymore. Whatever corruption had begun in this place had burned deep inside his brother's spirit, filling him with darkness. Gabriel's eyes stung with genuine tears as he listened to his brother and did not hear his familiar love.

“She was the perfect candidate for my experiment,” Lucifer released Sorcha, letting her head sag back against her sunken chest. “The true vessel of an Archangel, a powerful, potent, _good_ soul. If even _she_ could become this monster, think about the rest of them. What could _they_ become?” He dusted off his hands as he looked Sorcha over, then gave a nod and turned to his brothers. “Michael. I’ve always told you this is what would happen. I’ve always said humanity is miserable and corrupt. Can’t you see it now? Can’t you see that God is wrong to tell us to value them over angels?” He stepped close, reaching up to slide his hand along Michael’s weathered cheek. “I love you. I know God created us to love each other, but I know I can look past that and love you for myself. You are incredible, my brother. I want to be at your side again. I want you here, at my side. Come join me. Help me stand up for our brothers. Who better to defend them from these monsters than us, the firstborn?”

“Lucifer.” Michael’s voice rumbled in his chest, deep with sadness and anger. “ _Brother_. _You_ are the monster here.” He stepped back, very deliberately pulling away from Lucifer's hand. “I will have nothing to do with this scheme of yours. I will not side with you.”

“Michael!”

“Gabriel.” Michael turned away from Lucifer, dismissing him with the movement. “We are going to leave. I don’t think we should return to this place. It is poison.”

“Sorcha…” Gabriel pointed to the woman on the rack, but Michael just clasped his hand between his own.

“There’s nothing we can do for her,” Michael said, his voice softer now. “She is gone, Gabriel. I am sorry. We need to go now.”

“I can’t just leave her!”

“You must.” Michael stepped close to Gabriel and folded his wings around the younger Archangel, blocking Sorcha from his view. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and clung to his brother. “Gabriel, we have to go home now.”

“Yes, Gabriel, go home.” Lucifer's voice was as frozen as his wings now, shards of ice dripping from bone. Michael and Gabriel both turned to look at the furious Archangel, barely able to react in time as he surged forward, wings and sword slashing toward them. Gabriel tumbled aside, while Michael swept up his own sword to block Lucifer's blow.

“Gabriel, run!”

Steel feathers crashed against icy ones, silver blades ringing together. The Archangels battled, leaving Sorcha undefended. Gabriel flattened his wings, slipping behind Michael to dart around the battle and to his vessel’s side.

“Sorcha?” Gabriel reached for the woman, but she screamed as soon as his fingers touched her decaying skin, flinching away from him. Gabriel jerked his hand back, and Sorcha sagged limply against her bonds again. “Sorcha!” He reached again, trying to untie her, but Sorcha thrashed and howled in agony with every touch of his grace against her tortured soul.

“Gabriel!” Michael shouted again. “Get out of here!”

Lucifer lunged, trying to get past Michael so he could stop Gabriel. Michael beat his wing against his brother, stopping him with a grunt of his own pain—he’d used his broken wing. Lucifer battered his own wings against the injured limb, and Michael shouted and twisted, trying to drag Lucifer away.

Michael needed help. He was injured already, and Gabriel was his ally. Gabriel needed to draw his sword and join the fight. He needed to fight the angel who had done this to Sorcha, to all his vessels. He took a step toward the pair, pulling his sword from his grace.

But that angel was still too much like Sammael, still wore his brother’s wings and grace, still spoke with his brother’s voice and smiled with his brother’s face. Gabriel couldn’t lift a weapon against his brother.

With one last look at Sorcha’s ruined soul, Gabriel turned and fled, beating his wings as hard as he could to escape the battle. Sammael was lost. He was never coming home.


	26. Michael's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Long before God created angel or man he made the first beasts: the leviathans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of the Interlude chapters, little flashbacks to when the Archangels were kids. In this chapter, Michael is a young child, maybe no more than the angelic equivalent of 5 or 6. He does get injured in this chapter, so if you’re uncomfortable with a child getting hurt, you probably shouldn’t read this chapter. In chronological order, this is the first Interlude.

### Michael’s Interlude

One thousand tiny wings, lined with delicate gossamer feathers that shimmered and glowed, unfurled whisper-quiet in the Void. The faint _rustle-shick_ of the shift reverberated through the darkness, as loud as a shout to the little angel who caused the disturbance. He laughed, a short crystalline burst that surrounded him, filled him, and just as quickly was swallowed by the Nothing. The angel flicked his wings to tumble through the Void, head over halo.

There was no such thing as “up” when he was alone here, and also no “down.” If Michael flew, he felt as if he moved direction he was watching. If he let his wings fall still, he vaguely felt like he was drifting back. In the Eternal Dark, direction meant nothing.

Father brought direction. Father brought purpose. When Michael could see Father in the distance, a bright, welcoming glow, he suddenly had a reason to fly. He could fly _toward_ Father. He could fly _away_ from Father. He could also fly _around_ Father, to the left or to the right or above or even below.

So many choices always left Michael overwhelmed with a dizzy giddiness that filled his mind. He was used to only two options: being or not-being. There could be noise or not-noise. He could flap his wings or not-flap. With Father, he could always do something new. He could fly straight at Father. He could fly at Him from the left, or from the right. He could zig-zag or spiral. He could fly in and dart out. He could soar high and dive, or he could swoop low and climb. He could make a different choice _every single time_ , and he loved it.

Michael couldn’t see Father now, so he curved his wings and rolled sideways through the Void, giggling as the movement ruffled his feathers, tickling his spirit. His young grace, thin but strong, shone brightly around him, illuminating his part of the universe.

Life was good.

Michael didn’t know what not-good would even be like. Never seeing Father again? That wasn’t not-good, that was _impossible_. Father was, and Michael was, and so of course they’d see each other again and again.

The Void threaded through Michael’s feathers, inky fingers of black slipping between his barbs. Michael straightened his wings to stop rolling, head cocked to the side as he drew one wing in front of him. The Void was still there, dripping through his feathers in a gooey, stringy mess.

This was new. New almost never happened in the Void, and _never_ happened when Michael was not with Father. Michael was not afraid of new. He did not know such a thing as fear could even exist. Michael _did_ know curiosity, and he felt it now. Never before had the Void infringed upon his being. Always, his grace had chased away the darkness. How could it be mixing with his wings?

As all curious fledglings would do, at least in Michael’s limited experience, Michael drew a second, clean wing around and prodded the dripping shadows. It was solid, spongy, and stuck to his feathers, stretching between his wings in a sagging strand of black. On his second wing, the Void started to climb up through his feathers, finding the structure of his spirit beneath the fragile covering. It wrapped around his wing and pressed down, and Michael had a new understanding of words such as _sharp_ , _pinch_ , and _pain_.

“Ouch!”

Michael flapped his wings hard, trying to shake the shadows off him, trying to pull away from the thing-that-hurt. The shadows stuck determinedly to his feathers, pinching him on the second wing again. Michael yelped, and little drops of pure grace welled up beneath the ink, bubbling out of his wing. As Michael watched, equal parts fascinated and horrified, the black licked out to swipe the grace into itself, consuming his light in its dark.

There was a moment of stillness, in which both angel and shadow contemplated this new action, and then the shadow was surging forward, pouring out of the Void to consolidate on Michael’s wing. Michael squealed, flapping his wing as hard as he could, shoving with more wings, trying to push the darkness away. He only succeeded in getting more feathers stained with the inky shadows, the solid strands ensnaring him in a web of black. The pinch happened again, bigger this time, sharper, a _bite_ , and Michael wailed.

 _This_ was fear.

“Daddy!” Michael’s voice rang out through the Void, as thin and small as his grace. He flailed in the darkness, trying to push away from the solid mass that chewed into his wing, sucking grace from the wound. As it pulled up, he pushed away, and with a bright flash of pain through his spirit, part of his wing tore free and Michael went tumbling through the Void.

Holding his injured wing tight against his chest, Michael flew as hard as he could with his nine hundred and ninety-nine other ones, their frantic whirring the only sound he could hear. He flew and flew and flew, pushing his wings until they all ached, and only then did he curl up, letting his momentum keep him drifting ahead.

Michael squeezed himself into as tight a ball as he could, layering his wings around him in a feathery cocoon. His injured wing was right at the center, still dripping liquid grace. There was a _hole_ in him. It _hurt_.

The little angel indulged in a few whimpers, brushing one of his whole wings over the injured ones. He needed to close the hole somehow. He needed to… he needed to pinch it closed, only without the sharp.

In order to pinch, he needed pinchers. Maybe hands, like Father had. He squirmed, his spirit rippling. _Hands_ were attached to _arms_. Two arms, one on each side. Michael pushed his spirit out, stretching it into hands just like his Father. One, two. Two arms with hands. They were small and pudgy, not sleek and long like his Father’s, but they were still hands.

Michael wriggled his fingers and practiced pinching a few times before he reached for his injured wing. He brushed his feathers in place and pinched either side of the hole, whimpering again at the new pain this caused. Still, he needed to push the hole back together. Gingerly, Michael eased the torn sides of his wing back into place and held it there. Now what?

His grace seemed to know the answer, jumping across the injury, weaving back and forth, closing the hole. The hurt started to dull, and the bright glow of unrestrained grace was dimming back into his usual level of brilliance.

A rustle whispered through the Void behind him.

Michael lifted his head from the huddle of his wings, looking around warily. He was a bright little ball in the Void, but he couldn’t see anything else.

“Daddy?”

His Father didn’t answer, because his Father wasn’t here. His Father would have been a second glow, not the constant dark.

The moving dark.

Michael froze, fear swelling inside him again, streaking through his grace. That had been _movement_ , on the edge of where his grace illuminated, a darker shadow than the rest of the Void. It moved again, swimming through the shadows, and Michael tracked the motion. Sideways. Around. Circling him.

The shadow launched itself toward him, opening into a huge mouth with giant fangs each as big as one of Michael’s wings. Michael shrieked, taking to flight again. He bolted up this time, away from the shadow. It made noises when it moved, squelching, slurping sounds, and it was gaining on the fatigued angel.

“Daddy!” Michael screamed into the Void, clawing at the darkness as he tried to escape. It was coming, it was coming, it was right _there_! Michael twisted around, shoving his new hands forward to try to stop the living darkness from biting him again. A sword materialized in one pudgy hand, extending into the shadow with a _sching_. Black goo exploded over Michael’s spirit, splattering against his wings and face. The shadow was in billions of pieces now, dissipating into the Void.

Michael’s wings shivered, and the angel drew an arm in to rub it over his face, pushing the goo off. No more shadow monster to bite him. He was alone in the Void again. He was safe.

Something squelched off to the right.


	27. To Raphael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel needs to get Michael help, but that means he has to go to the head of Heaven’s defenses: Raphael

### To Raphael

Gabriel broke through the barrier back to Earth, his sword clattering out of his fingers against the cold stone as he fell. He gasped for breath, clutching at his chest, his skin feeling swollen and stretched. They couldn't have been in Sammael's realm for long, absolutely no more than an hour, but even that short time was enough to make Gabriel feel too small to contain the full glory of the Host again.

He didn't have _time_ for pain. Gabriel forced himself to his feet, snatching up his sword and shoving his grace out. He needed to get to Raphael before Lucifer had a chance to overpower Michael. Even physical flying would take too long.

Gabriel's return to Heaven was less than graceful as he brutally tore a path open through the realms. Heaven and Earth sparked against each other as they mixed through the Borderlands that usually separated them, and Gabriel noticed a few glares from some of Raphael's Dominions as they rushed in to repair the damage. He couldn't stop to apologize. Raphael. He needed to get to Raphael.

Seraphim and Cherubim dove aside as Gabriel hurtled through Heaven, eschewing the Axis Mundi to fly directly to the eastern tower, Raphael's home. In a twisting vortex of cloudy glass, the Archangel of the Air oversaw the entire defense of Heaven.

Gabriel nearly slammed through the wall itself, he was flying so fast. He barely managed to get in through a proper door, bowling over a poor little Angel in his way, and raced up to Raphael's offices. He could feel the other Archangel's presence and was grateful that his brother wasn't out on a patrol today. “Raphael!”

Raphael was standing over a table with two of his Seraphim, studying several maps spread out between them. He looked down at the smaller Archangel with a sneer, his eyes narrowing. “For Father's sake, Gabriel, don't you understand how to make an appointment?”

Gabriel shook his head, clutching at his chest and grimacing. Now that he had stopped moving, the agony of being reconnected with the Host was catching up to him. “It's urgent! Raphael, the Borderlands between Heaven and Earth need their guard increased, _now_! We could be under attack soon, we might not be, I don't know! Michael's still on Earth, we have to help him, Sammael's with him, it's not safe, Raphael, he's gone, we need to help, I just left him, my vessels-!”

Raphael snapped his fingers, and Gabriel's mouth snapped shut, his words instantly stopped by his brother's grace. “Gabriel. Be silent.”

“ _Mmffh!_ “ Gabriel clawed at his useless mouth and gave his brother a rude hand gesture he had learned from the humans, but the meaning was lost on Raphael.

“Calm down.” Raphael turned away from his maps, focusing his attention on Gabriel. “Let's try this again, but try to make sense this time.” He snapped his fingers again, freeing Gabriel's tongue. “Danger is coming from Earth?”

“Maybe.” Gabriel rubbed his mouth and scowled at Raphael. “It might just be Lucifer—Sammael. He wants to be called Lucifer now. He's… we've lost him, Raphael. Sammael's gone _insane_.”

“You think _Sammael's_ going to attack us?”

“Maybe!” Gabriel threw up his hands in a dramatic shrug. “He's not Sammael anymore, and he's _pissed_! I think there's a good chance!”

“Where is he now?” 

“On Earth. Not on Earth.” Gabriel tugged at Atis' hair in frustration. This would have been so much easier if he didn't have to explain from the beginning to Raphael. “He's in his own realm, which opens onto Earth, without any Borderlands between them. He'd have to pass through Earth to get here. Michael's with him now. They were fighting… I fled.”

“You _fled_?” Raphael's lips curled in scorn. “You _abandoned_ our brother in his battle? Does he have any support?”

“No,” Gabriel whispered, hanging his head in shame. Yes, he _had_ abandoned Michael, an injured and weakened Michael, left him to fight a fully charged and furious Lucifer on his own. “Michael is alone there.”

“Where?” Raphael demanded. “I'll send my best garrisons to back him up. Give me an access point.”

“They can't get in,” Gabriel said. “Sammael's realm is warded against angels unless their names are carved into the wall. Michael's is, but none of yours are.”

Raphael growled, slamming a fist onto the table. “Then give me a location to the entrance to this realm!”

“I can give you coordinates,” Gabriel offered. Raphael nodded, gesturing for one of the two Seraphim, his own second, to take the location from Gabriel.

“Marmoniel,” Raphael said, addressing the angel, “send our two best warrior garrisons to that cave, to wait for Michael. Virgil's and Adroniel's. If he comes out fighting, his enemy is their enemy, regardless of what or who it is. Remiel.” The other Seraph lifted his head. “Move all of your garrisons to the Borderlands between Heaven and Earth. Same orders. If Michael, Virgil, or Adroniel are fighting someone, they are to immediately take up arms. They are to defend Heaven from anything even remotely hostile.”

“Should we tell them to watch specifically for Sammael?” Marmoniel asked, glancing between the Archangels.

Raphael shook his head. “Not yet. I want to evaluate the situation myself before we spread panic among our younger brothers. Do not so much as _hint_ that Sammael may have gone rogue, understood?”

“Yes sir.” The two Seraphim bowed and vanished, leaving Raphael and Gabriel alone.

Raphael's bright eyes slid over to his twin, and Gabriel turned away, bracing himself against the table with both arms. “Shut up,” Gabriel whispered, closing his eyes. “Don't even think it. I know I shouldn't have left, but I'd've been worse than useless to Michael if I stayed.” 

“That's always been your problem. You love too damn much.”

“And you don't love enough,” Gabriel mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

Gabriel winced, folding his arms on the table and dropping his head onto his arms. “No, forget it. Just… forget it. It's been a very bad day, Raphael. Cut me some slack.”

Raphael was silent, but Gabriel could still feel the judgment in his grace. He should leave, should return to his own tower on the other side of Heaven. Cariel wouldn't judge him. Cariel would let Gabriel collapse and tell him it would all be all right in the end.

“Is Michael in danger?”

Raphael's question was quiet, but Gabriel could hear the serious inquiry in his voice. He rolled his head to the side to look at his brother. Raphael was very pointedly looking away, but even his profile was troubled.

“Yes,” Gabriel whispered back. “I'm scared.”

And that was why Gabriel hadn't left Raphael's tower yet. For all he hated his twin, Raphael was an Archangel, the only other Archangel in Heaven at the moment. For all of Cariel's understanding, he would never realize how it felt to have the entire realm resting on your shoulders. The Archangels were the pillars of Heaven, and one of them had just collapsed.

“If he dies, I will be holding you personally responsible.”

And that was why Gabriel hated his brother. Raphael's voice was cold, and he _still_ wouldn't look at Gabriel, even as he passed judgment. Not that Gabriel could blame his brother. If Michael died, Gabriel _knew_ it would have been his fault.

“If he dies,” Gabriel pointed out, forcing his guilt aside to try to be rational, “then we are the only two Archangels left. If we turn on each other now, all of Heaven will fall.”

“So I should forgive you for abandoning Michael when he needed you most?” Raphael spun to face Gabriel, hissing in his anger, his wings flaring.

Gabriel was tired, so very tired. “No.” He let his head sink back into the cradle of his arms. Michael had told him to run, but Gabriel should have disobeyed. He should have forced himself to fight Lucifer. If Michael died, he would be the first to blame himself. “But you should put it aside, for our younger brothers' sakes.”

“How would I be able to trust you to have my back?”

“You've _never_ trusted me!” Gabriel curled his hands into fists, shoving off the desk to glare at Raphael. “How does this change things?”

“Pray Michael survives.” Raphael stepped closer to Gabriel, drawing his wings up high. “Or Heaven will see a civil war.”

“Gabriel!”

The stand-off between the two Archangels was interrupted by Cariel, three of Raphael's Angels trying to hold the Seraph back from bursting into Raphael's office. “Gabriel, reports are flooding in! Our garrisons on Earth are under attack!”

“What? From what!?” The tension between the twins snapped in favor of a new panic, as both Archangels turned to Cariel. Gabriel was the one to address his second, but Raphael stepped forward to listen.

“We don't know! Something new!” Cariel pushed off one of the Angel's hands, stepping into the office. “Barachiel's pulled back his garrisons; they've taken a heavy beating, but no casualties. Zachariah moved in to defend. They're… reports are saying they're humans, but they _aren't_. Their eyes glow, and they are as swift and strong as any Angel. They're too large, too powerful, to be merely human.”

“Eve is still locked away.” Raphael looked at Gabriel, dismissing the lower angels as he addressed his equal. “She isn't creating any new monsters.”

“Then who is?” Gabriel asked, catching his eye briefly before turning back to Cariel. “Pull everyone back. We have several situations unfolding on Earth—just sound a full retreat. I want my choir in Heaven to be redeployed once we can see the scope of things. Raphael?”

“We'll continue to watch the Borderlands. I'll pull back some garrisons for the gates and walls, and station several more to Earth to cover your retreat and see if we can't identify the source of these new beasts.”

“Go, Cariel!” Gabriel waved his hand at his Seraph, dismissing him to carry out his orders. 

“We need to be out there,” Raphael snapped. “Grab your sword and armor up. If Sammael—”

“Lucifer,” Gabriel mumbled, correcting his brother.

“If we are attacked by an Archangel, we'll be the only line of defense possibly able to hold him back.” Raphael snatched out his sword, his grace swirling around him and solidifying into a near-impenetrable armor. Very few of even Eve's creatures could punch through solid grace so long as the angel in question was still connected with the vast resources of the Host, but grace alone was no match for the sword of an Archangel. Gabriel swallowed down his fear as he mimicked his brother, preparing for battle.

The walls and gates of Heaven were metaphysical constructs more than physical defenses. The entire perimeter of the realm was ringed with the shimmering barrier, but the gates always stood open, allowing the angels to come and go as they pleased, wherever they chose to materialize. As long as a quadrant's gate stood open, the entire quadrant was open.

Three of the massive gates were closed now, and the walls were swarming with Raphael's soldiers. Only the Eastern Gate remained cracked open as Gabriel's angels swarmed in. Far too many were supporting their brothers. Barachiel himself, Gabriel's third strongest Seraph, was carrying two Cherubim with broken wings, a third clinging to his back between his own. Raphael directed them to his healers, his face a cold mask of fury.

Gabriel stood beside Raphael, fighting the need to go to his choir. He couldn't help them now. He was no healer. He needed to be ready to face Lucifer if the Archangel attempted to breach the gate.

“Archangel incoming!” Remiel's shout rung out over the walls, and Gabriel slid his eyes sideways to Raphael before adjusting his grip on his sword. The twins pushed forward as one, reaching out threads of their grace to see which angel was bearing down on Heaven's gate.

The grace that answered was slashed and burned, at first only recognizable by the sheer _amount_ of it. Gabriel threw his sword aside and flew out to meet his brother as soon as he recognized the broken wing— _Michael_! His brother had escaped! 

Michael crashed into Gabriel, unable to check his speed. His broken wing was twisted badly, hanging limply from his back, and several more were badly damaged. His vessel was already gone, likely shed somewhere on Earth. Michael whispered Gabriel's name, pressing a hand to his cheek, and Gabriel could feel his brother's relief that _he_ was alive.

Raphael swept his long wings around them both, hurrying them back to the gate. The last of Gabriel's angels slipped through, and Raphael ordered the gate be closed and barred behind them. As the doors whispered together, Gabriel and Raphael laid Michael down gently inside Heaven, aware that the eyes of nearly the entire Host were among them.

As a general rule, Archangels did not get hurt. Very little was even _capable_ of penetrating their shields to injure them, assuming they stopped fighting long enough to let themselves be injured. Massive monsters, like the dragons, were dangerous, but really, with the exception of the time God shouted his wrath directly into Gabriel's head, the Archangels always rose above their younger brothers as untouchable pillars of righteousness and justice. You couldn't _hurt_ righteousness. You couldn't _break_ justice.

And yet Michael, the greatest of all angels, was lying between his brothers in a crumpled mess of broken wings and splintered grace. His hand found Gabriel's, squeezing weakly. Gabriel offered his brother a thin smile, lifting their clasped hands to press his lips to Michael's fingers. Across from him, Raphael was already feeding his grace into Michael's battered form, sealing the worst of the damage.

 _Sammael?_ Gabriel asked, his voice just a whisper over the mental connection the Archangels alone shared. _Is our brother…?_

 _Lucifer still lives._ Michael's voice was as quiet as Gabriel's, but from his own weakness instead of any actual hesitation. _But that creature has not been our brother for a long, long time._ Michael's eyes slipped closed, and he grimaced under Raphael's ministrations. 

_How bad is it?_ Raphael asked, spreading out his own grace around Michael to try to offer him some relief from having his raw grace so exposed.

 _Very bad,_ Michael answered, reaching out his free hand to catch Raphael's. The Healer paused for a moment to squeeze Michael's fingers gently. “Heaven,” Michael said, speaking the words aloud for the entire Host to hear, “is at war.”


	28. Reassigning the Choirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Raphael are patching Michael up and trying to patch up Heaven at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still canon-compliant through season 9! Woo!
> 
> Work on the sequel is also going very well. I may have hit the halfway point, or I may have passed it. I've finished the first act, though!

### Reassigning the Choirs

“We should rearrange our choirs.”

“We are literally holding Michael together with our wings and a prayer, and _that_ is what you want to talk about?” Gabriel scowled at his twin from his seat on the floor of Michael's office, wrapped around his oldest brother as a living support. Michael lay sprawled against his chest, his head tucked in against Gabriel’s neck. Raphael's hands carded through Michael's wings, slowly stitching his broken spirit back together. The three had been tending to Michael for the better part of two hours now, and the only true success Gabriel could see was how they had managed to move the injured Archangel somewhere private.

Raphael responded with a cold look at his twin. “I’m trying to be practical. With Sammael gone, his angels will need to be folded into our choirs. I think it would be wise to look over our current setup and make some changes.”

“Look over Michael!” Gabriel snapped. Michael had survived the fight with Lucifer, but only barely. He could feel his brother latched on tightly to his own grace, drawing heavily from him to keep himself conscious while Raphael worked over the worst of the injuries. “How about you focus on doing _your_ job!”

“…no.” Michael croaked the word against Gabriel’s throat, his fingers twitching against the floor. “Talk. Keep talking. Distracts me…”

Gabriel curled his hand around the back of Michael’s neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Michael had to be in agonizing pain, but he was remaining stoically silent. If he wanted to be distracted… Gabriel sighed and looked up to meet Raphael’s eyes. “Fine. How should we rearrange our choirs, Raphael? Do tell us what we’ve been doing wrong.”

Michael pinched Gabriel’s side. “No fighting…”

Gabriel ducked his head contritely at the admonishment, shifting his wings around Michael to hold him closer.

Raphael waited for the brothers to settle before speaking again. “We should each focus solely on one of the important aspects: Heaven, Earth, and defense.”

“We already do,” Gabriel pointed out, but Raphael was shaking his head before Gabriel finished.

“Not _solely_. You have warriors on Earth. Michael has warriors in Heaven. I have healers and surveyors. We’re not specific enough.”

“You want to take my warriors and Michael’s?”

“And you could have more of Sammael’s garrisons, to keep our numbers even.”

“I don’t see how that’s a good idea.” Gabriel did not like the thought of handing over any of his angels to Raphael. Their two choirs were run completely opposite of each other. All of Gabriel’s angels knew they were free to laugh and sing and have _fun_ with their jobs. Raphael’s angels were a somber, sober bunch that wouldn’t know a smile if it bit them in the ass.

“We’re at _war_ , Gabriel, and that war is focused on Earth. Our enemies are not in the Borderlands. They are coming from this new realm, pouring over the earth and threatening humans and angels alike.” Raphael spared Gabriel a glance as he folded one of Michael’s wings aside, reaching for another broken limb. “We need a single general to oversee the entire defense.”

“Michael can do that,” Gabriel pointed out. “When he’s well again.” He smoothed his fingers over Michael’s forehead, feeling Michael squirm closer against him in response. Michael always coordinated the Archangels. This war shouldn’t change things.

“Only your garrisons will fight on Earth? Mine will wait for yours to fail and the battle to come to the Borderlands before they help?”

“Yours can help on Earth!”

“And the battle on Earth will answer to two different angels with two vastly different styles of attack?” Raphael shook his head as he set Michael’s wings back to order. “Gabriel, that’s asking for disaster. If our forces on Earth are so divided, Sa- _Lucifer_ will certainly strike hard and fast between us. He knows us too well. We can’t fight him with what he is expecting.”

“Point,” Michael mumbled, agreeing with Raphael.

Gabriel’s grace twisted around him in agitation, revealing the frustration he couldn’t show with his wings or hands, all of which were still wrapped around Michael. “Then we can work together. We _can_ manage cooperation when there’s a genuine threat.”

“This is about as cooperative as we get,” Raphael shot back, gently rolling Michael in Gabriel’s arms to get to his other side. “And even here, we're hardly friendly.”

“Point,” Michael mumbled again, letting Raphael move him.

“Besides, I’m not asking you to hand over half your choir. Really, you only have Zachariah and a couple fifth-class Seraphim commanding warriors, correct?”

Gabriel reluctantly nodded to Raphael. Three of his Seraphim had genuine soldiers under them, though any angel could pick up a sword if necessary. Zachariah, his third-in-command, oversaw the majority of Gabriel’s warriors, while Bahram and Simiel commanded the lower garrisons of soldiers. None of them were crucial to his choir’s well-being, like Cariel or Barachiel, but losing them did leave him without a defense.

“You don’t even like Zachariah,” Raphael continued. “What with how much you complain about him, I would have thought you’d be glad to get him out of your wings.”

While that was true, that wasn’t the _point_. Zachariah, for all his pain-in-the-wings ways, was still _Gabriel’s_ Seraph, and Gabriel didn’t want to give him over to Raphael.

The argument in his own head sounded strangely familiar, and Gabriel frowned as he tried to place it. Raphael had never tried to take any of his angels before, except that one time when Cariel was being punished. Gabriel shoved that thought aside quickly. It came with memories of Sammael and how his older brother had had his back unconditionally, not permitting Raphael to steal away Gabriel’s second. Sammael had loved him then, loved them all. How could he have become this _Lucifer_ , who could tear Michael to pieces and declare war on the entire Host?

 _Don’t think about him,_ Gabriel chastised himself firmly, squeezing his eyes shut. Think about Raphael again, how Raphael was asking for his angel, and even though Gabriel didn’t like Zachariah, he wasn’t about to give Raphael the satisfaction of handing him over.

 _Castiel._ The familiarity hit Gabriel again, but this time, he knew why. This must have been how Raphael felt, digging his heels in for _millions_ of years as Gabriel and Cariel tried to wheedle Castiel out of his grip. Raphael tried to get Castiel killed instead of handing him over to Gabriel, because Castiel was _his_ angel, and at some point, the twins found spiting each other more important than the well-being of the entire Host.

Gabriel opened his eyes, his wings sagging around Michael. He couldn’t afford to be so petty now. Their family was crumbling, and he needed to help hold together what remained, not break it apart further. “You think this is for the best?” he asked Michael, stroking his fingers along his brother’s face. Michael gave a little nod, a muffled _Yes_ hissing against Gabriel’s throat. The younger Archangel pouted as he turned to Raphael. “ _Fine_. I’ll give you my warriors.”

Surprise actually flickered across Raphael’s grace for a moment. His twin clearly hadn’t been expecting Gabriel to capitulate so quickly. “Well then… good. Thank you.”

“Be nice to them.” Gabriel kept his eyes on Michael, unable to bring himself to look at his twin. What if his angels saw this as a betrayal? What if they didn’t _want_ to serve Raphael? What about Castiel? That Angel was in one of Zachariah’s garrisons. Gabriel was just handing him straight back to his first choirmaster. And Balthazar, Balthazar would be _miserable_ under Raphael’s rule. And Uriel, always joking around, or sweet Anael, their Dominion. That whole garrison was better suited to Gabriel than Raphael… but Gabriel couldn’t rescind his offer now. Just because one garrison was practically custom-made for serving under Gabriel did not change the fact that they were warriors and would be most efficient as tools of Raphael’s. “Just… be nice.”

“I shall be as fair to them as I am to any of my angels,” Raphael said with a bit of a scowl, insulted at the implication that he would be cruel to any of his younger brothers. “I may not coddle them as much as you do, but I will not deliberately be cruel to them. Open your wings.”

Gabriel pulled his wings away from Michael at Raphael’s order, trying to be as careful as possible. Michael’s grace was sticky from its injuries, clinging to Gabriel’s feathers and stretching unpleasantly. Gabriel grimaced as it tugged at his feathers, and Michael hissed, squirming in Gabriel's arms.

“Shh…” Raphael soothed Michael with gentle touches from his hands as he worked Gabriel free from the oldest Archangel. “I know it hurts, but you need to let go. We won’t let you fall.”

Michael eventually settled again, this time on his back, reclining against Gabriel’s chest, his wings limp between them. Gabriel looped his arms around Michael’s chest, holding him up, as Raphael leaned in close again. Michael tugged at Gabriel’s grace, and Gabriel wrapped it around his brother, bolstering his spirit.

“We need to,” Michael began, his voice thick and slow, “divvy up Sammael’s angels. Azazel, Alastair, Tarel…”

“Tarel and Tumael and their garrisons have been working closely with the humans,” Gabriel said, rubbing his hands gently over Michael’s chest to soothe him. “They’ve been teaching the humans how to hunt—Raphael? Would that fall under defense or Earth?”

“Earth, probably,” Raphael said after giving it some thought. “They’re warriors, yes, but the sort of hunting they’ve been teaching is largely individual, isn’t it? They don’t work as a unit, but solo or in small teams?”

“That’s my understanding,” Gabriel agreed.

“Then you can have them. The humans will continue to need education, especially if S-if Lucifer is attacking them, and I can’t afford to have soldiers so distracted.”

“Azazel was Sammael’s second,” Gabriel said. “His garrisons did a bit of everything. And Alastair and his garrisons did re-educating.”

“Alastair can be Michael’s, since his garrisons worked with angels exclusively. That’s a Heaven task. As for Azazel…” Raphael shrugged. “You’re welcome to have him, if you’d like, since you’re giving up one of your first-class Seraphim.”

Cariel and Azazel were not going to get along. Gabriel only knew the golden-eyed angel in passing, from what little interaction they’d have whenever Gabriel was looking for Sammael. Azazel and Cariel were very much cut from the same cloth. Both from the first clutch of Seraphim, the two angels were unangelicly proud of the positions they held in the Host. They served their Archangels religiously and kept a firm hand on the lower Seraphim, acting as go-betweens between the choirmaster and the rest of the choir. If Azazel tried to act like that in Gabriel’s choir, Cariel would shut him down, hard. Gabriel couldn’t picture Azazel allowing anyone other than an Archangel in a higher position of power than him. 

Still, Azazel was also a frighteningly competent Seraph, quick and clever. Like Cariel, his loyalty was absolute. If the Archangels didn’t treat him with the respect he thought he deserved, he might flee Heaven to return to Sammael’s side—to _Lucifer’s_ side. Lucifer had said many of his choir had their names carved into the wards. Gabriel had no doubts that Azazel was first among them.

“Maybe we should let Michael have Azazel,” Gabriel suggested, twisting his wings as he thought. “Azazel is used to being a second, and while he's no Filiel, he’s a fair bit better suited for the role than Naomi.” Michael’s wings tensed at the mention of his fallen Seraph’s name, but he said nothing about Gabriel’s proposal.

“You just don’t like Naomi,” Raphael pointed out.

“She doesn’t like me,” Gabriel argued back. “But even if we did like each other, she’s still only second-class. Michael didn’t upgrade her level when he promoted her.”

“Meant to be temporary,” Michael explained, giving a little nod. “If Azazel will come to me, I would welcome him.”


	29. A Chance of Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azazel has a message for Gabriel, but all may not be as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving all! I hope you had a great holiday if you celebrate it!
> 
> Just for the record, this fic is still canon-compliant with season 9 as of what has been aired!

### A Chance of Treason

Nephilim. The glowing-eyed humans who could fight an angel hand to hand and _win_ were called _Nephilim_. They covered the world, showing up everywhere humans had settled down. In larger cities, packs of Nephilim banded together to tear down any angel they caught alone. They were the most dangerous creatures any angel had ever faced, as they could easily blend in with the masses of humanity when not engaged in battle. Raphael’s angels could not distinguish human from monster and were frequently caught off-guard. The Nephilim were capable of identifying an angel riding in a human vessel just on sight alone, and many of them were willing to kill the human to end the angel.

Gabriel hoped they’d find out where these Nephilm had come from soon. Most of the war was being run through Raphael, but Gabriel’s angels working on Earth were just as much of targets as the warriors, if not more so. The Nephilim always seemed to know exactly where Gabriel’s angels worked, and they were especially adept at disarming angels and using their own swords against them. Barachiel had gone so far as to forbid his angels to wield their blades as long as their opponents did not have one. Several other Seraphim were starting to see the wisdom of this order. So long as the Nephilim did not have an angel-forged blade, they could not _kill_ angels. If an angel could escape back to Heaven alive, there was a good chance that they could be healed and return to the Host. Still, many angels disappeared every day on Earth. Many of Sammael's former angels had entered Gabriel's choir, gone to their first assignment on the planet, and never returned.

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel looked up from his musings to see Azazel standing in his doorway. The Seraph bowed slightly to the Archangel, precisely the correct angle as was polite between an Archangel and another’s second. He had graciously accepted Michael’s offer of employment and was already a much better lieutenant than Naomi had been, not that she’d had the time to mess much up. The golden-eyed angel was quiet and serene, always with a little smile on his face no matter what he was saying or hearing.

A downside to Azazel taking over in Michael’s choir was that Michael himself was much less available now. Azazel kept the Archangel busy all day, with every last minute scheduled out. He _did_ include plenty of rest in his schedule, but when Michael was resting, he was absolutely not allowed to be disturbed. Michael was still weakened from his battle with Lucifer, his spirit scarred and pitted. Raphael had done his best, but even the Healer had his limits. Michael needed to heal naturally now.

Michael had allowed Raphael to finally heal his broken wing. _Sammael is never coming home,_ he had whispered against Gabriel’s shoulder. _I cannot afford weakness any longer._

Gabriel had watched a part of Michael die as his wing was fused back together. He had wanted to cry for his brother, for both of them, but he could only force himself to remain strong and hold Michael. _I won’t leave you,_ he had thought desperately, willing Michael to know he wasn’t alone.

“Sorry,” Gabriel said, giving a little shake of his head. “Just… been overwhelmed. Come in, Azazel. How can I help you?”

“Michael has a mission for you.” Azazel stepped forward, presenting Gabriel with a piece of paper held in both hands. Gabriel frowned a little as he accepted it, scanning the note from his brother.

“He… _wants_ me to visit Lucifer?”

“Your name was carved deeper than his own, and Lucifer has always had a special fondness for you.”

“Lucifer hates me,” Gabriel corrected, setting the paper on his desk. “ _Sammael_ liked me, but Lucifer is pissed off.”

“Please,” Azazel said, still with that damnable smile as he gave a little shake of his head. “I know my bo—my former boss. Whether he is Sammael or Lucifer, you were always his favorite brother.”

“I don’t think you knew him as well as you think,” Gabriel said dryly, pushing away from his desk. “Michael—”

“He loved Michael differently.” Azazel slipped around to Gabriel’s side again. He was taller than the Archangel by a head. Gabriel would have thought he’d be used to it, after millions of years, but it still rankled him sometimes that about half the Seraphim could look down on him if they really wanted to. “ _You_ were the one he swore to protect, the moment you opened your eyes. He would listen to you.”

“And what am I supposed to say? Please, Lucifer, come home, we’ll forgive you?”

“Don’t patronize him. Unless you want him to separate your head from your shoulders.” Even that was said with Azazel’s smile. Gabriel wondered if Azazel was patronizing _him_. “Michael wants to hear his demands. He wants to know what Lucifer would consider a successful end to this war.”

“And your former boss didn’t bother to tell you that, what with how chummy you two were?” Gabriel folded his arms and turned away from Azazel again, aware that he was being petulant. He didn’t want to return to Lucifer’s realm. Michael was right—there was nothing incredible about it. Not anymore. And his _name_. Gabriel shivered at the thought of his name carved into that cold rock, the yellow pus poisoning his very essence. Every time he passed into that realm, he risked falling into corruption, just like Sammael had.

“Lucifer kept certain topics closed,” Azazel explained calmly. “We knew he wasn’t happy in Heaven. None of us anticipated _this_.”

“None of you? Really?” Gabriel turned a skeptical eye on the younger angel, but Azazel just smiled at him, his grace innocently blank.

“None of us.”

Quiet meetings on Earth came to Gabriel’s mind, clusters of angels gathering around his exiled brother, excited whispers, eager nods when Sammael declared his disgust with humanity. Gabriel had always given his brother privacy when he met with his angels, but now he found himself wishing he actually had paid closer attention. Azazel had been a frequent visitor during Sammael’s exile, and now Azazel was the second most powerful angel in the Choir of Heaven. In some regards, Azazel controlled _Michael_. Gabriel turned slowly to face his younger brother, studying those inscrutable golden eyes, that clever little smile that _never changed_ , that innocent grace that gave nothing away. “Is this order from Michael,” he asked quietly, “or from _you_?”

“I would not dream of abusing my power so,” Azazel answered. “I serve the wishes of my choirmaster, nothing more.”

 _Who is your choirmaster?_ Gabriel wanted to demand, but he knew Azazel would _say_ Michael, regardless of what he truly thought. For the first time, he wished he had an angel like Alastair or Naomi in his choir, to tap into Azazel’s mind and tear the truth loose.

Alastair and Naomi were both in Michael’s choir. _Every_ angel skilled in interrogation and re-education were in Michael’s choir. Orders in all the choirs were passed down through the seconds. Very rarely did an Archangel actually speak with the lower orders directly. Azazel effectively controlled Michael’s choir, and Michael was too weak and distracted to notice.

What was worse, Gabriel had given it to him. Raphael had suggested Azazel join _his_ choir. Cariel would never have let Azazel take control. In his own choir, Azazel’s potential for deceit and destruction could have been neutralized.

 _I’m being paranoid,_ Gabriel told himself. _No angel would be so treasonous._

No angel had ever been in Azazel’s position, though, torn between two Archangels. Azazel had served under Sammael since the dawn of time. He had only served under Michael for a month.

The Seraph was not flinching from Gabriel’s scrutiny. His composure didn’t flicker. Nothing about him hinted at where his true loyalties lay.

Azazel slowly cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong, Gabriel?”

“No,” Gabriel answered quickly, following the word with a little smile. “Why don't you go back to Michael? I'll attend to this as soon as I have a free moment.” Azazel glanced around Gabriel's empty office and said nothing. Gabriel flicked his wings. “I'm expecting a report from Cariel any moment now. Once he's done, I'll speak with Lucifer.”

“Of course.” Azazel inclined his head to Gabriel, his smile never wavering. “Michael looks forward to your response.”

Gabriel waited until Azazel had flown before sinking heavily into his chair. _Cariel!_ He called to his second over his choir's broadcast, his voice automatically louder than the normal buzz of idle chatter.

_Oooh, someone's in trou~ble!_

Barachiel's sing-song response made Gabriel laugh, though he wasn't sure how much of that was from genuine amusement and how much was simply his building stress. It was still nice to know that some of his angels, at least, were able to keep up their good spirits despite the Nephilim hounding their steps constantly. _Yes, Barach, and once we're done discussing what to do with you, we'll let you know._

Gabriel tuned out the giggling responses of Barachiel's angels, teasing their Seraph. His door had opened, and Cariel slipped inside. “You called?” Gabriel simply gestured to the order from Michael, snapping his fingers to close the door behind Cariel.

Cariel drew up a seat with a wave of his hand, taking the paper and scanning it, a frown growing on his face. “Gabriel, this is-”

“Dangerous,” Gabriel finished for Cariel. “Suicidal? Stupid, that's what it is.”

“Did he say why?”

“Michael wants to know what Lucifer would consider a successful victory.”

The two angels just looked at each other for a moment, Cariel's eyes narrowing as he rolled this over in his mind. “Why would he care?”

“Because he doesn't want to kill Lucifer? That's the only victory we're looking at right now.” Gabriel slumped back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. “Cariel?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Do you like Azazel?”

“Azazel?” Cariel went along with the apparent topic change easily, rubbing his chin as he considered his brother. “Azazel's definitely loyal, and I do value that.”

“But loyal to which Archangel?” Gabriel watched realization dawn on Cariel's face. He felt better just knowing that his second was considering Azazel being a traitor as a genuine possibility. It wasn't complete paranoia if it could be true, right?

“Would Michael allow that to happen? In his own choir?”

“Michael's weak right now,” Gabriel admitted. “He's still recovering; Raphael could only do so much. Michael rests and meditates when he's not being run ragged by commanding the entire Host in this war. And,” Gabriel hesitated to confide in Cariel, but if there was any angel he could trust right now, it was his own lieutenant, “don't spread this around, but when I was missing, Raphael and Filiel were actually running Heaven for him. Michael lost his mind or something. Raphael didn't go into details.”

“No,” Cariel said, shaking his head. “We would have known. Michael was still directing everyone's movements. He took over this choir in your absence.”

“With orders like that one?” Gabriel asked, nodding to the paper Cariel held. “Dictated to and signed by his second in command?”

“Raphael was dictating to Filiel?”

“Or Filiel was writing them himself.” Gabriel spread his arms. “We've always taken it on trust that an Archangel's second speaks with their voice. You're probably the craftiest Seraph in the Host, and even you didn't doubt the validity of the orders.”

“Well… bollocks,” Cariel finally declared. “How can you tell if this is Michael's order or Azazel's?”

“I can't. Not unless I talk to Michael directly.” Gabriel pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth. Getting on Michael's schedule these days was next to impossible, even for the Archangels. “And to do that, I'd have to go through Azazel.”

“Does he suspect?” Cariel pushed himself to his feet, pacing around the room. His wings were twitching agitatedly.

Gabriel nodded. “I… wasn't exactly the most subtle with him. But it's _Azazel_. He doesn't give anything away.”

“Well, you can't go.” Cariel gave the paper a shake. “This is the perfect way to get you killed. Send you to Lucifer, on 'Michael's' orders, to a place no one can follow? You can't do this.”

“If I don't, and the orders _are_ from Michael?”

“Tell him they're stupid! Say no!”

“Rebel?” Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “Really, Cariel, you think that's what Michael needs right now?”

“Better you rebel and hurt his feelings than you get _killed_.”

“What if… what if Lucifer really does want to talk?”

“You can't be serious!” Cariel slammed his hands down on Gabriel's desk, a wild desperation born of fear flickering through his grace. He was scared for Gabriel, for his well-being.

“Hear me out.” Gabriel held up a hand, palm out. “Azazel said I had nothing to fear. He said he knows Lucifer, and Lucifer loves me.”

“Lucifer also loved Michael, and look how that turned out!”

“He said I was Lucifer's favorite.”

“Michael-”

“He said I'd be safe.” Gabriel let his hand drop into his lap, still holding Cariel's gaze. “Maybe… maybe Lucifer really _does_ want to talk. Maybe Azazel is trying to broker a truce.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Cariel sank back into his chair, his grace now dismayed. “Azazel shouldn't be trusted!”

“I don't know.” Gabriel closed his eyes, tipping his head back. “I don't know, Cariel! I _want_ to believe it. I want to end this war without losing another brother. I want… I want Sammael back.”

“You're going to go.” Cariel tucked his wings in tight against his back. “Even if it kills you.”

Gabriel looked solemnly at his Seraph. “I have to.”

“Such is the life of an Archangel,” Cariel muttered. He pressed his hands against his legs, staring into his lap for several minutes before looking over at Gabriel again. “Go to Raphael first. Tell him what your orders are. Ask him for help with your defense.”

“Cariel-”

“No!” Cariel flashed his wings out, scowling at the Archangel. “Your life is more important than your pride. Ask him for help. He can station angels in that cave for immediate backup. Don't let Lucifer take you far from the exit. If things go bad, run. Just… just come back. To us.”

Gabriel heard Cariel's unspoken _To me_ almost as if Cariel had actually whispered it in his mind. He reached across his desk, his hand finding Cariel's shoulder. Cariel's wings twitched, and he looked away, his whole spirit tense.

“I'll come back,” Gabriel promised. “To you.”


	30. Reconnecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before returning to Hell, Gabriel gets some very familiar backup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, yes, but I'll post another one tomorrow!

### Reconnecting

Gabriel found Raphael in the Borderlands between Heaven and Earth, in conference with several of his Seraphim. Zachariah stood at his left side, looking very puffed up and proud. Gabriel shuffled his wings in irritation—Zachariah was actually _lower_ ranked in Raphael’s choir than he had been in Gabriel's, but he was allowed to order his garrisons to fight things now, so he was far more pleasant to be around. Gabriel didn’t like that one of his angels was so excited by the prospect of war.

Many of Raphael’s angels were glowing with excitement, just like Zachariah. These were the strongest of their brothers, the biggest, the most disciplined. They excelled at sweeping wide swathes of destruction across the land. This war was giving them a chance to show off.

“You have a message?” Raphael asked, glancing over the heads of the Seraphim at Gabriel.

The Messenger shook his head. “Father has still been silent. I had a request.”

Raphael looked intrigued, waving his Seraphim aside to step toward Gabriel, accepting the paper Gabriel offered him. “This is for you,” he said, scanning the first line and trying to hand it back to Gabriel.

“I know. Read the whole thing.” Gabriel folded his arms and looked around him. The other angels were watching the Archangels curiously. Raphael in a good mood while in Gabriel’s presence was an uncommon event. It had been happening more often lately, once Gabriel gave in to Raphael’s insistence that the choirs needed to be reorganized. Gabriel hated the feeling like this was Raphael’s way of patting him on the head and calling him a good boy.

 _Why would Michael want you to talk to Lucifer?_ Raphael’s next question was whispered between their minds, a cord of his grace wrapping around Gabriel’s to keep them in contact.

 _It very well could be a trap,_ Gabriel answered.

_Michael wouldn’t send you to your death._

_Not Michael._

Raphael scrutinized Gabriel for a moment. _Azazel?_ Gabriel just shrugged. He’d already been over this with Cariel. He didn’t have anything new to add, nothing Raphael couldn’t figure out on his own.

“You want a guard. An escort.”

Gabriel nodded. “They can’t follow me all the way, but I’d feel better knowing I had trustworthy angels at my back in case things go sour.”

“A wise move, coming from you.”

Gabriel flexed his wings in annoyance but didn’t rise to Raphael’s bait. He could be mature and serene when he felt like it. Not that he felt like it _now_ , but it was good practice.

“I’ll send a garrison with you. Zachariah, is Anael rested?”

“Yes sir,” Zachariah answered. “Her angels are due to come off their respite today.”

“Summon them now. I want them to escort Gabriel to Earth.”

“Yes sir.” Zachariah turned away, his eyes glowing as he called to his angels over a frequency Gabriel didn’t automatically hear. Zachariah truly was no longer his angel.

Anael, though, Anael led Gabriel’s favorite garrison out of all of Raphael’s. She had once been Gabriel’s Dominion, and he had been most afraid of handing her and her Angels over to his brother. Gabriel was glad Raphael had picked her for his escort. He trusted her the most, and would feel safest with her garrison at his back.

When Anael and her nearly four-hundred-Angel-strong garrison appeared to report to Zachariah, Gabriel didn’t have to fake the bright smile on his face. A ripple of happiness spread through the combined grace of the garrison when they saw Gabriel standing beside Raphael, but their responses were muted, their faces impassive. Raphael was shaping even this cluster of angels into the same emotionless machines as the rest of his choir.

“Your garrison will be escorting Gabriel today, Anael. Obey him as you would me, as you would Raphael. Keep him alive at all costs.”

Anael accepted her orders with a sharp salute to Zachariah and barked a few commands to her Angels. They slipped into place behind Gabriel, and Anael stepped up to his side. “We’re ready when you are, sir.”

“Then let’s fly.” Gabriel gave a nod to his brother as he spread his wings. “Thank you, Raphael. I hope to return them all in one piece.”

“Your return is their only objective,” Raphael answered. “So long as you come back, they were successful.”

Gabriel resisted the urge to growl and instead launched himself into the air, followed by the garrison. He didn’t want to be leading any of these angels to their deaths.

Four Angels darted ahead of Gabriel to grab at the seams of the Borderlands, pulling open a portal to Earth. This was a much smoother transition than Gabriel usually opted for, punching between the worlds with no patience for opening doors. He slipped through first, but he waited just inside, on an empty island, for the entire garrison to gather around him.

“Sir?” Anael asked, once they were all accounted for and the portal closed.

Gabriel just grinned and held out his arms to her. “I’ve missed you, Anael. And all your Angels.”

Anael let out a bright laugh, flinging herself into Gabriel’s arms for a hug. That broke Raphael’s spell over the garrison, and the younger angels all pressed in close to the Archangel. He tried to wrap his wings around as many as possible, grinning when he saw Castiel’s familiar spirit worming under an arm. “Castiel! I’m so sorry you’re back under Raphael’s wings!”

“It’s not so bad this time,” Castiel said. “This garrison is much nicer than my old one. We hardly see Raphael at all.”

“We’re the _best_ garrison,” Balthazar insisted, draping himself over Castiel’s back. “But we don’t have the best choirmaster anymore. And we get in trouble for being too rambunctious.”

“We’re much more focused under Raphael,” Uriel pointed out, beneath the curl of one of Gabriel’s wings.

“Just means we can’t have as much fun!”

“Maybe when the war is over, I can talk Raphael into giving you back to me,” Gabriel said. “I can’t promise anything, but know that I will do what I can. Just stay loyal to each other, and to the Host. Obey Raphael, and pray to Father. Things will get better.”

“Yes sir,” Anael said, giving Gabriel a salute that was far less somber than the one she presented to Zachariah earlier. “Did you really need an escort, or was this just an excuse to speak with us?”

“I really do need an escort,” Gabriel brushed his wings over the garrison one last time before folding them in carefully. “I am headed to Lucifer’s realm today, to speak with him personally.”

“You can’t do that! He’ll kill you!” Castiel’s wings were flared widely in concern as the words burst out of the Angel. Gabriel ran his hand over Castiel’s back, smoothing his feathers and trying to calm him.

“I am the Messenger,” he reminded Castiel. “Lucifer may allow me entrance as a neutral negotiator.”

“May?” Anael asked quietly.

“That’s why I’m bringing you.” Gabriel turned slowly to look at the gathered garrison. “I want you to wait for me just outside his realm. Do not engage any of his creatures in battle unless they attack you first. If you _are_ attacked, retreat.”

“Not without you,” Anael declared.

“Without me, if necessary,” Gabriel countered. “If I’m killed in his realm, you may never know. If you are attacked, assume the negotiations have broken down and I’m lost. Save as many of yourselves as you can. That is an _order_ , Anael.”

Anael held Gabriel’s gaze for a moment before dropping her eyes. “Yes sir.”

“Good.” Gabriel reached out to smooth his fingers down his sister’s cheek. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Shall we fly?”

“Form up!” Anael slipped back into her position at Gabriel’s side, while the garrison fell into neatly organized ranks behind her. The angels all followed Gabriel’s lead as he spread his wings and took off into the sky, headed for the corrupt realm of Lucifer.


	31. Back to the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once in Hell, Lucifer isn’t happy that Gabriel isn’t giving him the responses he wants...

### Back to the Abyss

Several Nephilim prowled through the cave leading into Lucifer’s home, grinning malevolently at the angels Gabriel brought with him. They stepped aside before the Archangel, giving him mocking bows and addressing him as “sir” or “Archangel.” Even though none of the garrison wore vessels, the Nephilim stared hungrily at them, never cringing from their bright grace. Several of the monsters twirled silver angel blades in their hands, licking the blades and whispering to each other about the angels they’d killed.

 _Hold your ground,_ Gabriel reminded Anael silently. As far as they could tell, the Nephilim couldn’t eavesdrop on angelic communications.

 _They were expecting us,_ Anael whispered back. 

Gabriel just nodded. The Nephilim were not at all surprised to see the angels, and were allowing them in close. This visit was not a surprise: more evidence that Azazel was not as loyal as he claimed.

An angel stepped through the gate to Lucifer’s realm in front of Gabriel, _not_ Lucifer himself. Gabriel almost stepped back, startled to find himself starting at Tarel, one of Sammael’s Seraphim who had joined Gabriel’s choir. The Nephilim had torn Tarel down on one of Tarel’s missions on Earth, ripped him out of the sky to the sound of screaming… or so Tarel’s surviving companions had told him. Tarel’s grace had vanished from the Host, and Gabriel had mourned the loss of the Seraph.

Tarel was standing tall and strong in front of Gabriel now, uninjured, a nasty little smirk on his face. “Welcome, _boss_ ,” he said. “Lucifer’s been expecting you.”

 _Anael._ Gabriel caught the Dominion’s attention, his grace grabbing hers. _If I don’t come back… tell Raphael that Tarel lives. Tell him to assume **every** lost angel has joined Lucifer._

 _Yes sir._ Anael was quiet, her voice sober as she squeezed her grace around Gabriel’s, a gentle encouragement. Gabriel squeezed back and untangled himself, giving a little nod to Tarel.

“Hello, Tarel. I’m glad to see you’re not as dead as we feared. Lead the way?”

The Seraph’s smirk only grew as he turned and stepped back into Lucifer’s realm. Wings tight against his back, Gabriel followed.

The shock of losing the Host’s connection wasn’t nearly as strong this time. Lucifer’s realm was slowly filling up with grace of its own. There were many angels here, their presences wrapping around Gabriel and muffling the pain from the loss of God.

Even without a vessel, Gabriel could feel the weight of the air in this realm. It was hot and humid, curls of vapor wrapping around his feet. Sulfur crusted every surface, and the bonework on the first level was completely covered in the living roots that anchored the two realms together. Gabriel tensed his wings, feeling the old manic energy he suffered from when highly stressed starting to build within him. He couldn’t stay still here. He needed to keep moving.

Gabriel took several steps inside and turned, looking up at the wall. Michael’s name had been obliterated from the stone, as he had expected, but his own name was there, every line oozing with pus. Gabriel shivered, imagining he could feel that sickness in his grace, slimy and thick.

“Lucifer’s waiting,” Tarel said, several feet ahead of Gabriel. “This way. He’s in the Pit.”

“I’d rather meet with him up here, if it’s all the same,” Gabriel answered, forcing his eyes away from his poisoned name. “Could you call for him?”

“No,” Tarel answered. “He meets you downstairs, or we blast your name from the wall and trap you in here forever. Your choice.”

Wings rustled behind Gabriel, and he turned to find two of Tarel’s Angels pressed against the stone, their hands hovering over Gabriel’s name. They could obliterate the sigils before Gabriel could reach the gate, even this close. Gabriel was standing in an unsprung trap. His best hope was to play along and humor Lucifer.

“If he insists,” Gabriel finally answered, forcing himself to turn his back on the Angels.

Tarel grinned at Gabriel and gestured toward the walkway. “After you.”

Gabriel did not like Tarel behind him, but the Seraph gave him little choice. He kept his head high and his wings close, refusing to show any fear. His grace buzzed around him, reacting happily to the great magmafall that still poured into the darkness. Gabriel curled his fingers into fists and descended the spiral walkway, forcing himself to not reach for the fire. There _was_ fire here, though, and this magmafall was Gabriel’s greatest chance of survival if Lucifer turned on him. Just as Lucifer was untouchable in the oceans, Gabriel was practically invincible in fire. As long as he could get back here, he could hold off anything Lucifer threw at him.

As Gabriel had feared, Tarel and his angels were not the only denizens of this underworld. They passed many Nephilim as they descended, and quite a few of Eve’s monsters too. Greasy patches of air growled and snarled at Gabriel, snapping at his wings, and a handful of angels stopped what they were doing to watch Gabriel’s descent. They were not all, Gabriel realized with a numb horror, formerly Sammael’s. He recognized a couple of Raphael’s fallen warriors, several of his own, and even one of Michael’s lower Seraphim tracking him through the haze.

Screams wafted up from the lower levels, horrible _human_ screams. Gabriel remembered Sorcha on Lucifer’s rack and couldn’t completely stifle the shiver that slid through him. Behind him, Tarel huffed a laugh, and several Nephilim snickered as they swirled around him and dispersed, their grey eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Don’t be so noble. We only take the corrupt souls, the ones that would never find a place in Heaven. All the screams you hear are from the lonely wanderers who’ve been dead for centuries already. We’re giving them a new purpose in this world.”

“How generous of you,” Gabriel drawled. “You must be so proud.”

“They’re _scum_ , Gabriel. They don’t deserve equal consideration to us, much less to be held in even higher regard.”

“Because no angel would ever attack another.” Gabriel looked over his shoulder at the Seraph, meeting Tarel’s eyes. Anger swirled in Tarel’s grace, and Gabriel made sure his own was emotionless in response. “We are clearly so much better than them.”

“Lucifer will explain,” Tarel snapped, shoving ahead of Gabriel to lead the way now. “Hurry up. He’s been waiting.”

Gabriel did not hurry. He continued at the same pace he had been walking at, forcing Tarel to keep stopping to wait for him. By the time they reached the pit, Tarel was visibly agitated, his wings beating at the overheated air.

Lucifer was in the pit, in Gabriel’s pit, prowling among many iron racks. Human souls twisted and writhed on them, attended to by various angels and Nephilim. Thrown in a corner was a crumpled pile of the corrupted results. Sorcha was in there, Gabriel instinctively knew, or rather, the creature Lucifer had called Lilith. This was her final resting place.

“Gabriel!” Lucifer interrupted Gabriel’s silent mourning with a cheerful cry, sweeping up in front of the younger Archangel and grabbing his arms. “You came!” He leaned in close, pressing freezing kisses to Gabriel’s cheeks. “I’m glad you got my message!”

“Azazel still works for you,” Gabriel said, tensing in Lucifer’s hold. That face, that smile, that _voice_ , it all screamed _Sammael_ to the Archangel, but the way Lucifer moved, the predatory glint in his eyes, the purring undertone to his words… that was all new, all dangerous, all _Lucifer_.

“Azazel? Last I heard, he was Michael’s bitch. I asked him to pass on a message for me, should this ever happen. Yes, I preyed on his own loyalty to me, but Azazel is faithful to his family first and foremost. His presence down here certainly would liven up the place.” Lucifer threw his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and steered him through the maze of suffering laid out before him. “We left things poorly last time, little brother. You ran away from me.”

“You were trying to kill Michael!” Gabriel reminded him. Lucifer waved his hand dismissively.

“Details, details. Michael survived, we’re all good.”

“Michael isn’t-!” Gabriel forced his mouth shut, refusing to give Lucifer any details on Michael’s current state. No matter how hungry he looked, Lucifer didn’t need to know Michael was still physically weak, or that his spirit was cracking from losing his beloved partner. “Barely,” he ground out. “Michael _barely_ survived.”

“And his side has the better healers,” Lucifer tugged Gabriel closer against his side. “It all evens out in the end. Now. What do you think of the place? Do you like my improvements?”

“I liked it better when it was just us,” Gabriel answered honestly.

“It can be just us again.” Lucifer stopped to turn to Gabriel, seizing his shoulders in his hands. “Little brother, we built this place. Together. We can rule it together.”

“No.” Gabriel didn’t even hesitate as he stared Lucifer down, pulling out of Lucifer’s grip. After what Lucifer had done to Sorcha here, Gabriel would never be able to feel comfortable in this realm. “I will not help you kill our brothers.”

“Hardly any have _actually_ died,” Lucifer said, as if the size of the number could make a difference. “Most of the angels you lost are down here with me already. If you joined me, you’d be with them again.”

“Even just _one_ actually dying is one too many!” Gabriel folded his arms and took another step back.

“We’re at war, Gabriel.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes at his little brother. “Death happens.”

“And whose fault is that?” Gabriel shook his head, lifting his wings high, wanting to flap them but not having the space. “What did you _want_ , Lucifer? Tell me this isn’t just another attempt to get me to turn my back on Heaven.”

“It’s not.” Lucifer stepped in close, crowding Gabriel against an iron rack. He lifted his own wings loosely, reminding Gabriel that he was the bigger, more powerful Archangel here, even fallen as he was. “I have a proposition for you to take back to Heaven.”

“Oh?” In order for Gabriel to take back a proposition, he had to be alive to deliver it. As long as he didn’t upset Lucifer here, he should survive. “That much, I _can_ do for you.”

Lucifer’s smile curled across his face, and he patted Gabriel’s cheek. “Good Messenger. Shall we go for a walk? Someplace a bit quieter, perhaps. You seem a bit disturbed by all the screaming.”

Gabriel could hardly protest as Lucifer looped his arm through Gabriel’s and lead him away from the pit. He did close his eyes as he watched one particularly creative Nephilim dangling a soul over flames that Gabriel remembered igniting himself. A part of him was inextricably woven through this realm. A part of him was forever tainted by the crimes occurring here. Perhaps that was what fed the sickness corrupting Lucifer’s wards. The realm _itself_ was evil… but if Sammael had created this from nothing, then Sammael must have been the one to introduce the evil in the first place. Gabriel didn’t want to think about that. He glanced over at Lucifer as they walked, remembering how it used to feel to have his brother at his side, at his back.

 _I miss you._ Gabriel tentatively stroked a thread of his grace over Lucifer’s, watching the older angel freeze up and slowly turn to him. Lucifer’s bright eyes searched Gabriel’s grace, and he reached up to cup Gabriel’s face in one hand.

_You don’t have to leave. You don’t have to obey Michael or Raphael or even God._

In his mind, Lucifer almost sounded like Sammael. Light and earnest, his words were hopeful and tempting. There was only one problem, and Gabriel made sure Lucifer could see the sincerity in his eyes as he answered: _I’m not. I’m obeying myself._

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his grace slashing angrily against Gabriel’s own, and Gabriel quickly withdrew, wrapping it tightly around himself. Sammael had always been quick to anger, but he had never been so _sharp_ , not with his brothers. “Suit yourself,” the older angel snapped, snatching at Gabriel’s arm again.

Gabriel didn’t let Lucifer drag him, even if that meant he had to stretch his strides out to keep up with his brother’s longer legs. Lucifer pulled Gabriel into the obsidian fields and spread his wings, launching into the air. The younger angel scrambled to keep up with him, before Lucifer’s firm grip on his arm yanked him off his feet.

From the air, the full expanse of the obsidian fields stretched out beneath Gabriel and Lucifer. Groups of Nephilim clustered across the slick black stone, each with an angel or two in their midst. They were training, Gabriel realized, recognizing routine movements or the delicate dance of sparring partners. The angels were teaching the Nephilim how to fight angels.

“Aren’t you afraid the Nephilim will turn on you?” Gabriel asked, looking over at Lucifer. “They aren’t like humans. Don’t you fear they’ll want their own independence?”

“Do you know what a Nephilim _is_?” Lucifer asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked over at Gabriel. “Do you know how they’re created?” When Gabriel shook his head, Lucifer laughed. “Nephilim are _our_ children, Gabriel. Every angel down there has at least one son or daughter among the Nephilim, and, to be honest, many still in Heaven do as well.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel stared down at the Nephilim they were flying over. “How can they be _our_ children?” Angels could not reproduce. Even in vessels, their bodies were sterile. The only way Gabriel knew of to create a fledgling angel was to have Father make a new one.

“Do you remember what we did?” Lucifer’s fingers slipped over Gabriel’s wrist, rubbing gently. “All those years we spent together down here?”

“Five days,” Gabriel growled, fighting the urge to yank his arm away. He didn’t want to upset Lucifer and have him rescind his offer of letting Gabriel escape with his life.

“Years,” Lucifer said, shaking his head. “There’s a temporal disconnect between the realms. We spent years, but on Earth, only a few days passed.”

A temporal disconnect. That explained a lot. Lucifer had been furious at Gabriel for taking so long to return, but two months should not have upset him so much. However, if five days on Earth was years in this place, two _months_ on Earth meant Lucifer had waited decades for Gabriel’s return. Maybe over a century, depending on how badly time bent.

It also meant Lucifer could spend longer training his armies. While Raphael took two months to train his warriors, Lucifer could train his for decades in the same amount of time. Lucifer’s army might be younger than Heaven’s, but it was quickly making up the difference in this realm.

“You’re starting to realize,” Lucifer murmured. “Heaven cannot win.”

“Heaven will not lose.” Gabriel hovered over the fields, still staring at the Nephilim. “Lucifer… how are the Nephilim created?”

“Do you remember what we did?” Lucifer repeated. “Replace you with a fertile human woman, and she will conceive a Nephilim. They have all the strength and speed of an angel, but all the appearance of a human. They are my perfect soldiers, stealthy and long-lived.”

“Angels cannot mate with humans. It doesn’t work,” Gabriel insisted.

“Have you tried? Have you made an effort?” Lucifer looked over his army, as proud as any father. “None of the Nephilim are _mine_ —I do have standards, and humans don’t meet them. But Tarel assures me that it is entirely possible to create a child with a human so long as you want it enough. Just as an angel can eat or breathe while envesseled, so too can they begin new life.”

Gabriel couldn’t say he’d ever tried. While he’d loved his vessels and their families dearly, he always felt protective of them, like a watchful big brother. He’d only ever lain with Michael and Sammael, and never once did he attempt to make a child with either of them (though now he wondered what such a child would have been like, an angel born of angels and not of God). “The Nephilim… are angelic?”

“And human. A necessary evil.” Lucifer curled his arm around Gabriel’s waist, their wings beating in sync, angled so they did not tangle together. “They are more efficient against angels than even other angels. We’re currently trying to arm them all.”

“So you can fight Heaven.”

“So we can defend ourselves _against_ Heaven.” Lucifer looked over at Gabriel. “I don’t want Heaven obliterated, Gabriel. I think it provides a necessary balance. Heaven is the land of order. Here, we have the land of chaos. Angels and souls should be allowed to choose which path they would prefer.”

“You torture souls here,” Gabriel pointed out.

“We are shaping them into our servants,” Lucifer corrected. “Humans are lesser than angels, and they need to be put into their place.”

“What human would _want_ to choose this path?”

“What angel would _want_ to choose the path of submission and servitude?” Lucifer countered. “Plenty do, even if it makes no sense.”

“Is that the proposition, then?” Gabriel asked after a moment of silence, surveying the Nephilim below. “You want to share souls with Heaven?”

“We want Heaven to recognize us as an independent but equal choice,” Lucifer said. “We want to coexist with our brothers, not kill them. We want to recruit angels and humans into our ranks just as they do. We want to be allowed to survive as we are, free of God’s rules. We will honor a truce with Heaven, if Heaven will stop hunting us. Until then, we will take out as many of Heaven’s angels as we can manage. You alone, as the Messenger, will be allowed safe passage here.”

“What about humans?” Gabriel asked quietly. “What about these, these Nephilim? Will you continue to make more? Will you _hunt_ the humans, to drag them down here to eternal torment?”

“If necessary.” Lucifer calmly met Gabriel’s gaze. “Humans are the pawns in this game, while Michael and I are the players.”

“He won’t say yes,” Gabriel warned his brother. “He won’t disappoint Father.”

“Tell him to try. For me.”


	32. Abominations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel’s not carrying Lucifer’s message fast enough for him. There will be repercussions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a rewrite when the episode 9.06 came out. It's not really spoilers if you haven't seen it, but it does reference a class of angels that we learned about in that episode. Story is still canon-compliant, woo!

### Abominations

When Gabriel stepped back through the wards and onto Earth, he was immediately wrapped in familiar grace as Anael and Castiel and Balthazar pressed forward to offer their support, along with all the other angels of the garrison. Gabriel leaned heavily on Anael’s shoulder but didn’t collapse to his knees this time. He could still feel Lucifer’s touch against his spirit, yellowed and slimy patches against his grace, and he shivered in disgust. That whole realm felt oily now, greasy and disgusting.

 _That was quick,_ Anael murmured into Gabriel’s mind, her arm unknowingly curling around Gabriel’s waist in exactly the same way Lucifer’s had. _Are you well?_

 _Temporal disconnect,_ Gabriel explained. _It felt longer. Give me a moment to regain my senses._ He stretched out his grace through Anael’s garrison, touching lightly against each of her Angels. They were all present and accounted for, uneasy but unharmed. The Nephilim who stalked among them had not attacked, and Anael’s Angels had not given in to the temptation to strike first.

Gabriel sighed and stretched his wings next, working out the kinks and flapping them to dispel the lingering manic energy. He nodded to Anael, and she withdrew her arm, spreading her own wings. “Let’s fly!” she snapped to her garrison, and hundreds of wings rustled in unison. Gabriel led the flight out of the cavern, the brilliant light of the angels spiraling into the sky.

A smear of heavy grace darkened the ground beneath them as they rose, and Gabriel heard Lucifer whisper in his mind. The fallen Archangel had emerged from his realm for the first time since the war began.

_Be quick, Messenger. Until Heaven acknowledges us, we **will** keep fighting._

It was a warning, a promise, and a threat, all at once, and it was followed shortly by a scream on a different frequency. High and piercing, it was the cry of an injured angel. A Seraph, judging by the power in the voice. Gabriel’s wings stuttered, his flight abruptly checked as the pain echoed through his mind. Anael and her angels swirled around Gabriel, confused.

“Gabriel?”

They hadn’t heard. It hadn’t been broadcast over the Host-wide channel, then. That only left one other option: it was one of Gabriel’s Seraphim. “Someone’s being attacked!” he shouted. “Follow me, hurry!”

The angels needed no second command. They flooded after Gabriel, racing as high in the sky as they could so as not to burn out the eyes of any human who looked up. Gabriel chased his Seraph’s scream halfway around the world, finding him pinned to the side of a stepped pyramid. Nephilim swarmed the structure, stabbing viciously at the Seraph’s outstretched wings, sawing through grace and spirit and _laughing_ as the angel howled in agony. More of Gabriel’s angels were on the ground, battling fiercely against the Nephilim, trying to reach their leader. At Gabriel’s side, Anael was shouting orders, her garrison immediately diving into action.

Gabriel himself dove for the Seraph, flaring his grace brightly and igniting his wings as he shouted a war cry. He was the smallest Archangel, but unvesseled, he was still over two hundred times larger than an individual Nephilim. He swung his sword, easily slicing through the half-angelic creatures.

As Anael’s garrison tore into the remaining Nephilim, Gabriel turned to the Seraph stretched out against the pyramid. The angel was envesseled, a silver blade driven through his shoulder to keep him in place against the stone. A puddle of grace, its glow fading as it dissipated, was pooling beneath his body. The angel’s own spirit was weak and flickering within the human vessel, its soul long gone.

“ _Barachiel!_ “

This was one of Gabriel’s top Seraphim, now second only to Cariel. Barachiel’s angels were peaceful creatures, monitoring and controlling the natural forces on Earth, the wind and the rain, the shifting of the Earth’s plates and the slow crumble of erosion. Gabriel believed it was truly impossible to hate Barachiel. Even _Raphael_ had a soft spot for the cheerful Seraph. Now he was dying, struggling to open his eyes on the cold stones of a human monument.

“You’re safe, Barach,” Gabriel murmured, stepping in close and smoothing his palm over Barachiel’s forehead. “Shh. Reach for my grace, hold on tight. I’m going to take you home.” He wrapped his grace around Barachiel’s weak spirit, trying to gather his brother together as much as possible before easing the sword out of his flesh. Barachiel hissed in pain, his fingers scrabbling against the stone, but his wings didn’t even twitch.

His wings didn’t twitch. They didn’t even _glow_. Gabriel felt a sick twist in his stomach that grew into a full-blown nausea as he lifted Barachiel in his arms and left the Seraph’s wings behind, crumbling into ash. The Nephilim had cut off Barachiel’s wings, all six of his magnificent wings. A cold fury swept through Gabriel’s grace, and he snarled as he turned toward the rest of the battle.

Anael’s angels looked up at Gabriel, falling back into formation. The bodies of Nephilim (and humans, as the burnt-out eyes attested to) were scattered around them. The angels that had been with Barachiel were huddling together behind their Dominion, a slender angel Gabriel knew as Hael, dusting off their vessels and healing physical injuries. They all snuck little glances at the Seraph in Gabriel’s arms, their eyes quickly skittering away as they swallowed and grimaced.

“Burn the bodies,” Gabriel growled, hugging Barachiel against him. “Burn _everything_. Then report back to Heaven. I need to get him to Raphael.”

Anael nodded, saluting Gabriel. At her side, Hael shivered and gave a weak salute of her own. “Understood. Go!”

Gabriel unfurled his wings and shot into the sky. Barachiel whimpered in his arms, whispering broken words like _sorry_ , and _no_ , and _please_. Gabriel threaded his grace into Barachiel’s, trying to keep him alive without overloading his broken spirit. If he could find Raphael, surely Raphael could save Barachiel. Raphael could save _anyone_ , if he could lay his hands upon them before they died.

He wouldn’t have time to guess at Raphael’s location. He shouted his brother’s name over the Archangel channel, his grace flaring angrily as he heard a demented cackling coming from Lucifer. The fallen Archangel could still listen in!

_Truce, Messenger, or more will fall._

_Borderlands,_ Raphael answered, before Michael’s presence swelled over the connection, chasing Lucifer away. Gabriel tuned it out and ripped through the veil between the worlds.

Raphael was in the same location Gabriel had last seen him, but this time, he was waiting for Gabriel. Marmoniel, Raphael’s second in command and the leader of his garrisons of healers, was rushing through the greyness of the Borderlands towards them as well. As soon as Raphael spotted Gabriel, he swooped in. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, grabbing Gabriel’s shoulder and studying his brother. “Did Lucifer attack you?”

“Not me, Barachiel!” Gabriel thrust his Seraph at Heaven’s greatest healer. “Help him, Raphael, _please_!” Begging was not beneath Gabriel’s dignity when one of his Seraphim was dying.

Raphael’s gaze darkened as he took in the sight of the injured angel in Gabriel’s arms, and he shook his head, drawing his wings back. “Far more merciful to kill him now, Gabriel, than to make him live on like this.” He funneled his power into his hands, and as they glowed with the strength of his grace, Raphael reached forward toward Barachiel.

“No!” Gabriel lurched back, knowing what that touch would mean. Raphael and his healers, the Rit Zien, could heal most injuries. For those angels too far gone for their care, they offered a merciful death, swift and painless. “No, Raphael, _please_. It’s Barachiel. _Barachiel_. Please. Give him a chance. _Try_ to heal him first. _Please_.”

Raphael studied Gabriel solemnly before he gave a little nod and let his concentrated grace dissipate. The Healer took Barachiel carefully from Gabriel’s arms, and Marmoniel clustered in with several more healers, their wings spread wide. Gabriel was pushed back, unable to do anything more than get out of their way. Raphael murmured a word of power, pressing his fingers to Barachiel's forehead, and the Seraph went limp and silent, his head lolling to the side, mouth slack. His grace still whispered weakly into the bleakness of the Borderlands, reassuring Gabriel that he hadn’t handed Barachiel over to his death. It wasn't too late. Raphael had him. Barachiel _couldn't_ be dying now.

“Gabriel!” Cariel shot toward Gabriel, his wings a blur as he flew as fast as he could, landing with a few steps to check his momentum. “Gabriel, you're alive, you made it out! Barach-”

“Raphael has him.” Gabriel turned slowly to look at his second. “They cut off his _wings_ , Cariel, those Nephilim were carving him into pieces! _Barachiel_! Barachiel has never wished harm on so much as a _gnat_!” His hands curled into fists, impotent rage bubbling up within his grace. “Those monsters, those _abominations_ did this to him! They thought it was fun!”

“Good.” Raphael turned away from Barachiel to look at Gabriel over his shoulder. “ _Good._ “

“How is this good!?” Gabriel demanded, shoving Cariel aside so he could stalk toward Raphael, his wings still burning with flames. “Barachiel is _dying_!”

“ _Was_ ,” Raphael corrected. “We've stopped the bleeding. He'll survive. More importantly, _you_ are finally furious about something.” The Archangel stepped away from Barachiel's limp body to approach Gabriel, a pleased smile upon his face. “This is why I’m letting him live. We needed that.”

“What?” Gabriel didn't understand. He tried to look around Raphael at Barachiel, looked over to Cariel, but there were no answers from his Seraphim. “What do you mean?”

“ _I've_ been mad. _Michael's_ been mad. You've been wringing your hands and hoping that if you ignored it enough, this war would go away.” Raphael prodded at Gabriel's shoulder with each sentence. “You are _finally_ righteously angry! _Your_ angels are threatened, and now you're ready to get in the fight. I'm giving you the Nephilim.”

For lack of a better response, Gabriel repeated himself, feeling utterly thick as he stared at his brother. “…what?”

“The Nephilim,” Raphael repeated. “They attacked your Seraph. Now you get to attack them. Take any of your angels. Draw from my warriors if you need to. Find a way to hunt them down, round them up, and destroy every last one of those monsters. I don't want to lose another angel to their filthy hands. Can I trust you to do this for me? For Barachiel?”

Raphael stepped aside, giving Gabriel a clear view of his injured angel. Barachiel looked tiny and vulnerable in his human vessel, with no wings at his back. A fresh wave of anger burned through Gabriel's grace, and he gave a firm nod.

“Absolutely.”


	33. Hello, Metatron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God is back, and Gabriel wants some answers from Him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of last night's episode, I figured it was fitting to put this chapter up now!
> 
> We are still technically canonical with Season 9, though there was at least one angel mentioned last night who probably should be folded into some earlier chapters. If I do that, I'll be sure to let you know!

### Hello Metatron

The war didn’t end.

Michael hadn’t approved of Lucifer’s proposition, as Gabriel had warned Lucifer. He sent Gabriel back to the fallen Archangel with an ultimatum: either Lucifer laid down his arms and surrendered _now_ , or Heaven would utterly obliterate all who followed him. Lucifer had responded with a threat of his own—Michael needed to submit to him or cause the downfall of every angel in Heaven—and Gabriel had spent the past century ferrying increasingly hateful messages between the brothers.

When he wasn’t playing Messenger between Heaven and Lucifer’s underworld, Gabriel scoured the Earth for Nephilim. The Cherubim, he discovered, had the easiest time recognizing when a human wasn’t fully human. His Cupids were especially useful, tagging the Nephilim with their arrows so they could be recognized by any angel. No matter how many of the monsters Gabriel and his angels cut down, there were always more in their place. Gabriel suspected Lucifer was having newborn Nephilim brought into his realm to raise them quickly, so his army was never depleted.

Raphael had taken it as a personal mission to stop the creation of the Nephilim. He and his warriors hunted every last angel on Earth, merciless and unforgiving. If an angel could not be spoken for by one of the three remaining choirs, they were immediately killed. Several angels Gabriel suspected truly were innocent fell victim to Raphael’s ruthlessness, but none in the Host complained. This was a war. Death happened.

Alastair, Naomi, and their garrisons slid through Heaven, pulling aside their brothers one by one and peering into their minds. They identified hundreds of angels who had lain with humans, sentencing them to death for treason and conspiring against the Host. The war was in Heaven as much as it was on Earth. There was nowhere Gabriel could go to escape the battle.

Cariel kept their choir running while Gabriel was away. He was seated at Gabriel’s desk now, feet propped up on the edge as he read over some reports. The Seraph glanced up as Gabriel returned from a hunt on Earth, a smile tugging at his face. “Hello, Boss.”

“Cariel.” Gabriel smiled back at his second, releasing his tight grip on his grace. It loosened and swirled around him, relaxing from the battle armor solidity. “How have things been in Heaven? Any new news I should know about?”

“Everyone is paranoid of Alastair and Naomi up here,” Cariel said. “Michael hasn’t been seen in two weeks, but Azazel has been working overtime on his behalf.” He gave the slightest shake of his head as he said that. Ever since Gabriel had returned from Lucifer the first time, he and Cariel had been keeping a close eye on Michael’s second for any sign of nefarious behavior. So far, Azazel had done absolutely nothing suspicious. Gabriel was starting to think that Lucifer had been telling the truth, that Azazel really was loyal to the Host first and had just been doing one last favor for the Archangel he had served for millions of years. “Word from the Healers is that Barachiel should be waking up sometime this month.” Barachiel was resting in Raphael’s tower, watched over constantly by at least a Cherub healer. His vessel had been discarded long ago, dead from the injuries from the Nephilim, but his wings had not started to regrow. Marmoniel said Barachiel’s spirit needed to finish mending before his energy could be turned to extraneous limbs. Gabriel prayed she was right.

“What about-” Gabriel cut himself off, looking to the east. There was a weight in the Garden, a very familiar warmth and _presence_ that echoed throughout Heaven. “Father’s back?”

“He comes and goes,” Cariel said. “No regular schedule. Michael and Raphael haven’t been to visit him yet.” 

“And you didn’t think I should know!?” God had been avoiding Heaven for several centuries, since even before Sammael became Lucifer. He had been _around_ , but never accessible. Joshua would occasionally offer the angels words of encouragement from their Father, but nothing concrete, nothing more than _You are not forsaken._

“He hasn’t sent for you,” Cariel pointed out. “If He _had_ , you would have known immediately.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m going to Him anyway.” Gabriel spread his wings before God could leave.

Today, the Garden was the Throne Room, and Joshua was sweeping the steps as he often did. He always looked sad when the Garden wasn’t a garden. “Greetings, brother. Here to see Father?” 

“Hello, Josh. Is He busy?”

Joshua nodded, leaning on his broom and smiling at the Archangel. “He is, but I think He’ll see you anyway.”

Gabriel could feel Michael in his tower, and he knew Raphael was still on Earth. Who else could God be busy with? Frowning a little, Gabriel pushed the doors open and stepped into the Throne Room.

Father was peaceful today, burning brightly on His throne. A Cherub was in the room, sitting cross-legged in Gabriel’s throne, sucking on the tip of a pen. He looked up as Gabriel strode in, his single set of silver-edged wings fluttering nervously. “Oh! Hello! You’re an Archangel!”

“Yes, I...” Gabriel ducked into a bow toward God, feeling his Father’s amusement ruffle over his wings as he couldn’t take his eyes away from the little brother sitting in God’s presence. Only the Archangels could sit with their Father. No other angel, _no other_ had ever looked upon Him. “You’re in my seat,” Gabriel finished lamely, shuffling his own wings in uncertainty.

“Sorry, I was just, yes, taking notes, you see, sorry. Didn’t want to sit in one of the big ones!” The Cherub gathered up his notes, hopping off Gabriel’s throne and dusting it off with a hand. “There, all better now!” He curled his wings behind him, head cocked to the side as he hugged the papers against his chest. “I’m a big fan of yours, Messenger! _Big_ fan. I like angels who deal with words. With _the_ Word. Very important. Very impressive.”

Gabriel turned slowly from the silver-winged angel to his Father, his grace curling around him in confusion. “I… _who_?”

God’s gruff chuckle brushed over both angels, and they both shivered in pleasure at their Father’s laugh. Gabriel shot the younger Cherub another skeptical look, a frown tugging at his mouth. Who _was_ this angel, to be singled out by their Father? Why did he have silver wings? Only Gabriel had truly different wings, edged in gold to show his role as his Father’s sole Messenger. What did silver edges mean? Was this angel meant to replace him?

_This is Metatron, from Michael’s choir._

Metatron bobbed in a deep bow to Gabriel, spilling some of his notes on the floor. He immediately chased them down, scooping them back into his arms with hasty apologies.

“But… _why_? Father, I… I don’t understand.”

_Metatron is My Scribe._

Metatron beamed at Gabriel, giving a quick nod and spreading his wings proudly. “God has chosen _me_ to take down the Word! It’s an impressive honor!”

“Of course it is.” Gabriel looked between his Father and his younger brother. “Er… take down the Word for _what_?”

“Contingency plans!” Metatron shuffled the notes in his hands and grinned nervously at Gabriel. “It’s an instruction manual for this universe.”

Gabriel’s frown only grew deeper with every statement the younger angel spoke. “Why would we need that?”

“You never know. Maybe someday, God will want to pass the universe on to a child.”

There was no such thing as “maybe someday” when it came to Father. Gabriel glanced sharply at God, sitting on His throne, but God remained peaceful and silent. Was _He_ expecting a child? Could He make a Nephilim of His own?

Of course He could. He could do anything. But _was_ He?

_You can go, Metatron. I shall send for you when I need you again._

“Yes! Yes, of course, let me just get my pens, of course!” Metatron nodded and bowed again, grabbing a few more things from Gabriel’s throne before he turned and bowed to God, covering his head with his wings like the Archangels did. He gave Gabriel one more smile and practically ran from the room, the heavy doors booming closed behind him. Gabriel could only watch him leave, at a complete loss for words.

_I know why you have come._

When God spoke again, Gabriel snapped out of his distraction to turn back to his Father, bowing again, much solemner this time. “Father, we need You to-”

_No._

The one word rolled with command, as firm and absolute as an iron door slamming in Gabriel’s face. At the same time, it was gentle, softened by sadness. Gabriel lifted his head, clasping his hands together in supplication. “Father, _please_!”

_No, Messenger. This war is between your brothers._

“And if You just stepped in, it could be over instantly!”

_And? What would they learn?_

Gabriel stepped back, forcing his eyes to stay low, at his Father’s feet. “This is a _test_!?”

_This is how the world changes._

“They are _killing_ each other!” Gabriel swept out an arm, gesturing toward Earth far below the Heavenly plane. “They are killing humans! Michael and Lucifer tear at each other daily! Suspicion and mistrust grow in the Host! Angels are being crippled and murdered and… and all You can say is that this isn’t Your war?”

_Yes._

There was no arguing with a supremely powerful entity who refused to participate. Gabriel’s wings slumped, then his shoulders, and he dropped to his knees on the floor of the Throne Room. “But…”

Father had been Gabriel’s last hope for a quick end to this war. Gabriel had been sure that if only Father realized how terrible things were, He’d step in to reset Heaven and Earth, to restore Sammael and heal Michael’s shattering spirit. Of course He already knew. He wasn’t waiting for His children to beg for His help. He was just watching them squabble and destroy each other.

God said nothing, but He didn’t leave the room either. He sat in His throne calmly, keeping Gabriel company while Gabriel hid his face in his hands. 

“I don’t understand,” Gabriel whispered.

 _You aren’t meant to._ The floor dissolved beneath Gabriel, shattering into millions of blades of grass. The Throne Room turned into the Garden, warm and alive, comforting instead of cold. The pillar of fire that was God moved closer to Gabriel and settled beside him. _My plan is in motion, Gabriel. The pieces have been placed. To interfere now… that would be cheating._

“But You’re _God_! Lord of All! You _make_ the rules!”

_And I follow them too. I don’t make new rules just because the game has taken an interesting twist._

“ _Interesting_!?” Gabriel pounded his fist against the grass. “This isn’t interesting! This is _devastating_!”

_A single brushstroke in a painting cannot see its purpose in the entire picture, and yet without it, the painting is incomplete._

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

_No._

Gabriel managed a weak smile at the truth of the hummed answer, shifting to sit beside his Father. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged his wings around himself. “I’m scared, Father. I don’t know what to do.”

_You are heart-strong and impetuous, exactly as I made you. Continue to follow your heart. It will not lead you astray._

Easier said than done. Gabriel’s heart was sick with grief over losing Sammael. It was worried over Michael and furious over Barachiel. Cariel completely confused it, and losing Anael’s garrison to Raphael saddened it. Gabriel pressed his hands over the core of his spirit and tried to find some glimmer of guidance within himself. “I just don’t know…”

_You will._


	34. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When God doesn’t provide an easy end to the war, Gabriel and Raphael must team up on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big Archangel battle is gearing up, and we're only just over halfway through this story! There's still a lot left for our angels to endure...

### Showdown

Sand whipped through the air, biting sharply into Gabriel’s exposed face and arms, spinning around his insubstantial wings and singing off through the air. It coated his open mouth, sticking to the back of his throat and cutting into his eyes. Little sparks of grace touched each injury, healing as soon as the damage was dealt, before Gabriel could even register the pain. He raced across the desert, heart stopped, lungs heaving in time with the pull of his muscles. There was no way his human vessel could endure the three-day-long run through this forsaken landscape, so Gabriel had shut it down.

Ahead, a darker shape amidst the sandstorm, a single Nephilim barely managed to keep ahead of the Archangel. His raspy breathing was music to Gabriel’s ears, a sure sign that he was waning. Nephilim had no grace to propel a failing body forward. They were superhuman creatures, but they were still limited by mortal bodies and mortal needs. This one, mightier than the rest, had been evading Gabriel for three full days now, but the distance between them was closing. By sunset, Gabriel would catch his prey. That thought alone made a grin pull his mouth wider, and he prayed a dedication to Barachiel for this hunt.

Screaming, howling wind streaked past Gabriel, snatching at his wings and shoving them back, sending him stumbling in the sudden gale. He shouted several obscenities at Raphael, words caught up in the storm and snatched away from him. Only his twin could make wind snarl his wings when they weren’t physically manifested.

The wind hit the Nephilim too, knocking him off his feet and sending him tumbling down a dune. Gabriel folded his wings in against the force of the air and leapt after him, drawing his sword. The Nephilim shrieked, rolling away through the sand. Gabriel scrambled after him, slashing at his unprotected sides.

Two feet slammed into Gabriel’s face, knocking him back. A new angel flapped his wings against the storm, slipping and sprawling in the sand. The Nephilim scrambled to his feet, running to the angel’s side, while Gabriel sprung back upright himself, spinning furiously on the intruder. The angel was injured, grace-infused blood dripping from a slash across his neck and chest, but he held out his wings defensively between Gabriel and the Nephilim. One of Lucifer’s, then. That would explain why Raphael was near, his windstorm screwing up both sides of the fight.

Even as Gabriel thought that, a lightning bolt scorched the air, barely deflected by a hasty shield of grace thrown up by the angel. The sand dancing around them parted, blasted to the sides and falling to the ground. Across from Gabriel, trapping the Nephilim and angel in the middle, Raphael stood lightly on the desert, his electric wings lazily stirring up little eddies of dust and melting trails of glass in the sand.

“You have no place to run.”

The angel hissed angrily at Raphael but didn’t turn his back on Gabriel. He curled his wings behind him, sheltering the Nephilim, obviously trying to keep an eye on both Archangels even as he cowered from their overwhelming power.

This was overkill, really. An injured Angel and exhausted Nephilim were no match for a single _Seraph_ , much less a pair of pissed off Archangels. Still, a victory for Heaven was a victory for Heaven. Gabriel swiped his arm over his face to brush off some of the encrusted sand, still grinning viciously at the trapped pair. “Pray for mercy.”

“Mercy!” the Nephilim screamed from within the cradle of angel wings. “Mercy!” As he shouted, the angel started to laugh, throwing his head back and howling his mirth to the sun above.

Almost instantly, that sun went dark, blotted out by hundreds of _massive_ wings. A shadow fell over the Archangels, slipping into the cracks of their armor, whispering into their minds, veiled grace revealed.

_Lucifer._

The fallen Archangel swept one huge wing between the twins, brushing away the Nephilim and angel. Both were instantly gone, sent somewhere out of reach. Raphael beat his wings against the air, lightning crackling around him in warning. Gabriel spread his own wings, twisting the knife-sharp edges of his feathers out, sending fire racing along the shafts. _Michael!_ he called, on the Archangel-only channel. _Help us!_

Gabriel wasn’t an idiot. Lucifer was stronger than either Raphael or Gabriel. He was almost certainly stronger than the twins combined, though they would have an advantage in being able to separate and attack from two sides at once. They might be able to hold him off for a bit, but any extended fight between Lucifer and them would end in a sound defeat for Heaven.

“Hello, brothers,” Lucifer purred, lightly stepping onto the sand in front of the Archangels. “Did you miss me?”

“ _Miss_ you?” Raphael sneered, spitting on the sand at Lucifer’s feet. “We haven’t finished celebrating your absence!”

 _Don’t antagonize him!_ Gabriel remained silent, shifting his hold on his sword, his body automatically adjusting to the new threat, sliding into a defensive stance.

“Oh Raphael. You always did prefer sucking Michael’s dick.” Lucifer lifted one hand, swatting through the air as if batting away a pesky fly. Raphael was thrown back by the casual show of grace, tumbling head over wings through the sand.

Lucifer turned his pale eyes to Gabriel. The Archangel narrowed his eyes and dug his feet in as his brother scrutinized him, studying the fallen one just as intensely.

Lucifer simultaneously looked horrible and more beautiful than ever before. His vessel was obviously dead, skin boiled through in places, burnt away to reveal the pull of muscle beneath. Lucifer’s grace _radiated_ through the holes, searing the human flesh that tried to contain him. If anything, Lucifer was stronger now than he ever had been in Heaven. His spirit was taller, his perfect face glowing beneath the human skin he wore. Just standing in his presence was making Gabriel’s vessel’s eyes water and sting, his whole skin prickling from the power crackling through the dry air. Was this what it felt like for a normal human experiencing an unfiltered angel?

With his head cocked to the side, Lucifer smiled at Gabriel. The simple gesture was calm and pure, the promise of peace singing over Gabriel’s grace. It whispered along his fingers, tugging at his hold on his sword. _Just drop it. Drop it, and it will all be over…_

Raphael shouted, surging back to his feet and charging toward Lucifer. The older Archangel turned away from Gabriel. As soon as he broke eye contact, the spell shattered, awareness crashing back over the younger angel. Gabriel’s sword hung limply between his fingers, the tip touching the ground. Gabriel hastily grabbed it tighter, shoving off against the sand to charge with his brother.

Silver swords rang against icy wings as Lucifer held the twins off without drawing his own weapon. He retreated from the pair, smirking as they swung at him with all the strength they could muster. Raphael attacked more fiercely than Gabriel, his sword sparking against Lucifer’s wings. Gabriel fought doubt with every blow, attempting to ignore the whisper in the back of his mind that this was wrong; he shouldn’t be attacking his _brother_.

In the circle of his wings, Lucifer raised a hand to his mouth, covering a yawn. A _yawn_! The angel couldn’t possibly be tired. He was yawning on purpose. Gabriel cringed as Raphael snarled in fury at the show of boredom, lashing forward with all his wings. He shoved the tips between Lucifer’s and threw them apart, spreading open Lucifer’s defense enough to dart in, sword whistling through the air.

Lucifer punched out, just once. His fist slammed into Raphael’s chest, bursting through the other side in a spray of blood and grace.

Time froze. Gabriel could see every last red droplet hanging in the air behind Raphael, blood and bone and chunks of flesh, all coated with his twin's iridescent grace. Raphael himself looked surprised, almost confused, his dark eyes wide, his mouth parted in a soft little O. For one startlingly clear moment, Gabriel realized he had never seen his brother look so gentle.

Raphael’s sword fell from nerveless fingers, restarting the world. His whole body collapsed around the arm punched through him. Lucifer just _looked_ at him, his head cocking to the side, pale eyes surprised. “Huh. I was expecting a bit more of a resistance.”

“ _Raphael_ …” Gabriel whispered his brother’s name, his sword arm falling as he stared at the mess in front of him. Glowing rivulets of grace ran down Raphael’s body and pooled at his feet. Who healed the Healer? Would Marmoniel even know where to begin, if Gabriel could get Raphael to her now? He felt familiar, frustrating manic laughter pressing at his throat and clamped his mouth shut, refusing to laugh as his twin hung from his brother’s arm.

Lucifer opened his fingers, shaking off the shreds of flesh that clung to them. Raphael gasped in pain, weakly lifting one hand and curling his own fingers around Lucifer’s arm, still shoved through his chest.

Michael dropped out of the sky with a scream, slamming into Lucifer’s chest and ripping him away from Raphael. The two Archangels tumbled across the desert, wings and swords clashing together. Their grace arced around them, raging against the other, destroying anything that got in their path. Reality itself was bending around the massive destructive force as the laws of physics twisted and distorted, drawing rivers of sand toward the battle. The fire in Gabriel’s wings flickered, burning brighter, little tongues of flame reaching for the two Archangels.

Raphael fell forward, his damaged body slumping toward Michael and Lucifer. The sand turned to glass beneath his wings before the lightning bled away, leaving only crumpled feathers behind. Gabriel took a shaky step toward him, and another, fighting the urge to turn his feet toward the clashing Archangels. He had no practice fighting at Michael’s side, and no luck fighting Lucifer. To enter that battle now would only put a handicap on his oldest brother, and with Lucifer as extremely radiant as he was, Michael needed all the advantages he could get.

He could help Raphael. A third step brought him to his brother’s side, and he dropped to his knees by the injured angel. He could see the desert floor through Raphael’s chest, where the vessel’s heart should have been. There was nothing there, not even a web of grace that should have been infusing the human body. Gabriel reached out with one finger, poking the empty space. Nothing. Sand. Blood. Too much air.

Raphael wheezed near Gabriel’s knee, and Gabriel jerked his hand back. Poking the gaping hole in Raphael’s chest would not help his brother! “Can I move you?” he asked, looking down at the angel’s face. “Can I… will that make things worse? I don’t know!” The only Healer present was bleeding out in the middle of the Sahara. Where were Raphael’s angels? Why wasn’t a garrison here? “Raphael, what do I do?”

“Grace,” Raphael grunted, crawling a hand through the sand to grab one of Gabriel’s wings. “ _Grace_!”

“Right, grace, of course!” Gabriel covered the injury with both hands and _shoved_. His own grace flowed into the hole, crudely plugging it to keep Raphael from draining out as quickly. Once the makeshift bandage was in place, Gabriel rolled Raphael onto his side and leaned in close. “Hold on if you can. Where is Marmoniel?”

“Tower…” Raphael’s voice was already weaker, but he managed to grip as Gabriel pulled his brother’s arms around him. Gabriel eased his own arms under Raphael’s spirit, lifting him free of the destroyed vessel. He debated for a moment before wrapping his grace tighter around his own. This man had taken a solid month of convincing before he had allowed Gabriel in, after the disaster with Sorcha. He was still alive, his soul cradled within Gabriel’s spirit. If Gabriel left him here, even with a dose of grace to keep him unconscious and alive until Gabriel could return, chances were very good that Michael and Lucifer would destroy him in their battle. Gabriel couldn’t afford that risk.

As soon as Gabriel spread his wings, the singularity growing between the battling Archangels grabbed at him, yanking him back against the sand. He struggled to his feet, trying to fight the pull. He had to; he _had_ to!

With a roar of effort, Gabriel shoved at his brothers with his grace, using that push to propel himself up, bursting loose from their grip. He tumbled through the air, hugging Raphael against him, and flew toward the nearest border. _All hands alert!_ he shouted over the Host-wide frequencies, opening his mind to all of his brothers, no matter what plane they were in. _We have a situation!_

A gate to the Borderlands pulled open in front of him, and when Gabriel blew through, he saw Raphael’s angels clustered on the other side, their eyes wide, grace vibrating in barely-concealed fear. The edge of the Borderlands closest to Earth was darker, thick tentacles of shadow reaching through the usual pale greyness of this non-space. Even darker streaks shot through the growing blackness in time with the ringing of the Archangels’ blades on Earth, like the after-image of lightning, sucking in all light instead of emitting it.

Raphael’s angels scrambled to escape the shadows, fleeing to Gabriel’s side. They were too proud to beg for help, but Gabriel could feel their terror pressing around him. In his arms, Raphael cringed against his chest, groaning weakly.

“Move!” Gabriel snapped at Raphael’s choir, fighting their fear to keep it from infecting his own grace. “Open Heaven! I need to get in!” The eastern gate was pulling open in front of him. It was barely cracked before Gabriel zipped through, yanking in his wings and thinning his grace to slip through the gap in Heaven’s barrier. 

The celestial realm was a hive of activity as angels of every rank scrambled toward the walls, forming into their garrisons and readying their grace as armor. Gabriel was the only angel flying inward, ripping past his younger brothers. Raphael’s tower was the only thing he could see right now. Marmoniel _had_ to be there. She had to!

Inside Heaven, the cacophony of the Host was almost impossible to tune out. The angels shouted inside Gabriel’s head: Dominions barking orders, Seraphim commanding their garrisons, Cherubim fretting about the danger. Raphael’s name was cried through the entire plane as the angels who saw Gabriel passing relayed their witness to the rest of the realm.

Marmoniel met Gabriel at the base of Raphael’s tower, whisking him inside without any question. Her grace was pale but strong as she directed Gabriel to lie Raphael down in a sterile, white room. Raphael’s arms slipped easily from Gabriel’s neck, limp and wrung out. The Archangel had barely any grace of his own left. Most of it was left to soak into the Saharan sands.

“Can you help him?” Gabriel asked, pressing his hands together in prayer. Raphael was the only angel Gabriel had ever actively wished would die, but he had never actually _meant_ it! For all their mutual loathing, Raphael was his brother, his twin, his _partner_ , and Gabriel did love him. It wasn’t always easy to love the glowering angel of the wind, but as Gabriel watched Raphael’s spirit bleeding into his dry grace, he knew he’d give anything to keep him alive.

“We’ll do what we can,” Marmoniel murmured, summoning more angels with a snap, her fingers flying over Raphael’s form as she began to work her magic. “Gabriel, please. Your stress is distracting. Go away?”

It wasn’t an order—Raphael’s angels knew better than to order an Archangel around (Gabriel’s didn’t)—but Gabriel obeyed anyway. He reached out to squeeze Raphael’s fingers gently, murmuring “Don’t die,” before spreading his wings and flying out of the tower.

Heaven’s walls were ringed with angels, inside, outside, and on top. Raphael’s Seraphim glanced over at Gabriel before turning their attention back to the Borderlands. All the younger angels remained motionless, focused, their weapons drawn.

Behind Gabriel, an angel cleared his throat to catch the Archangel’s attention. Gabriel turned, finding Cariel and Azazel standing together. Cariel looked annoyed, but Azazel just smiled, like always.

“The Northern and Western quadrants are fully guarded,” Azazel reported, with a small bow to Gabriel. “The Southern quadrant is less protected, but we pulled as many spare defenders as we could from the rest of Heaven.”

“The Southern quadrant is protected by _his_ angels,” Cariel said, jerking his head at Azazel. The golden-eyed angel cocked his head to the side in innocent confusion. “Ex-Sammael's.”

“Then we need to keep the fighters away from the south.” Gabriel didn’t bother to hide his suspicion of Azazel’s loyalties. Michael’s second still had been on his best behavior, but Gabriel just couldn’t trust him. There was something wrong about someone who smiled all the time.

“Is Raphael dead?” Azazel asked, proving Gabriel’s point. He was smiling even as he asked _that_! “We felt his grace drain away.”

“He’s not dead!” Gabriel snapped back. “I got him to Marmoniel in time.” _I hope._ “She’ll heal him.”

“Good.” Smile. Gabriel wanted to punch Azazel in the face.

Cariel twitched a wing and caught Gabriel’s eye, giving him a little knowing smile. Bless his second, for understanding.

Before Gabriel could decide what to do with the angels, something slammed into the eastern wall with a muffled _boom_. The impact shook the foundations of Heaven, throwing them all off balance. Raphael’s tower swayed. Frightened cries erupted through the connection between the angels. Heaven had _never_ been hit like that before. Gabriel managed to keep his footing by spreading his wings for balance. Cariel grabbed Gabriel’s arm to stay upright himself. Azazel rode out the shock effortlessly, smiling through it all.

“What on Earth!?” Gabriel looked around, trying to find a source of the attack.

Azazel nodded. “I think that’s exactly it. Something on Earth.”

Gabriel stared at the golden-eyed angel for a moment before taking off, racing back toward the eastern gate. It hung open, its defenders all thrown to the ground, struggling to climb back to their feet. Gabriel shot past them, followed closely by Cariel and Azazel.

The Borderlands were _black_ around Earth, save for the clusters of Raphael’s angels pressed tightly together, swords out, wings spread, trying to hold off the darkness with their combined grace. A handful of angels were scattered in the blackness itself, sprawled out, drained entirely of grace, their dying spirits crumbling into ash. It looked like the Void of old. It _felt_ like the Void, a sucking _nothingness_ that tugged at Gabriel’s wings and limbs. In all of Gabriel’s years living in the Void, no angel had ever been killed by it. It was an empty vacuum, but not a deadly one.

None of the Angels had ever experienced the Void, though. No Seraphim either. The Void was already diluted into the Borderlands by the time the first Seraphim were created. Now it was growing in concentration again, every last bit of substance being sucked out of the Borderlands, funneling to Earth.

The fight. The _fight_! Michael and Lucifer were clashing together, the two most powerful beings in the _universe_ , beneath only God Himself, and they were destroying everything in their path, including reality itself.

Gabriel barely braked in time, throwing his wings wide to catch Cariel (and reluctantly, Azazel) before the Seraphim could hurtle into the unexpected Void.

“This is new,” Azazel commented lightly, as if the Void climbing against the walls of Heaven was nothing more than an unusual color of flower.

“I think ‘bad’ is what you actually meant,” Cariel retorted. “Gabriel?”

“Stay there.” Gabriel held a hand behind him to stop the Seraphim from following him into the darkness. He stepped forward, feeling for the ground. Nothing. As expected.

_There was just darkness, and you could fall and fall and fall forever…_

Gabriel spread his wings, fighting down a shiver. He was the only available Archangel; he couldn’t afford to show fear. The Borderland garrisons were looking to him for help, their faces silently begging him to save them. But _how_? They couldn’t step into the Void themselves. It was too much nothing. It would kill them.

They needed a path, a path to the gate. Gabriel looked at the closest cluster, six Angels and a Dominion. The Dominion had his wings wrapped around the Angels, responsible for their protection to the very end. Gabriel looked back at the gate, where Azazel stood smiling and Cariel had his hands pressed together in prayer, his eyes fixed on Gabriel and full of worry.

Worry, because he loved Gabriel, above all other angels. _Love._ Sammael had loved Gabriel in the Void, and the warmth of his affection could chase away the darkness. Michael had loved Sammael, and when they were together, the Void felt full and safe. Father had loved them all, and whenever they were near him, _nothing_ could harm them.

“Cariel.” Gabriel pressed a hand to his throat, gathering a handful of his grace straight from his core. “Catch.” He pulled it away from him and threw it at his second, a ball of grace unraveling into a glittering thread through the Void.

Cariel caught the grace, holding it gently in both hands. He looked at Gabriel, then wrapped it around his waist, anchoring it to himself. Gabriel smiled thinly and turned back toward the nearest trapped angels. “Stay calm,” he called to them, flying toward them carefully, easing out his grace to keep a strong cord between himself and Cariel. “It’ll be okay.” He landed in front of the Dominion and curled his largest wings around all seven of them. The angels relaxed immediately, their wings sagging in relief.

Gabriel pulled the cord of his grace thin and concentrated on it, snapping it away from himself, a trick he had figured out from studying how Sammael had parted his own grace in the ocean all those years ago. He handed the loose end to the Dominion. “Can you hold that?”

The Dominion looped the grace around his wrist and nodded. 

_Please let this work,_ Gabriel prayed, stepping out of the way. “Hold the cord, don’t let go. Fly to the gate and get inside. Hurry!”

The Angels glanced to their Dominion and to each other. The smallest one reached out, curling his fingers around Gabriel’s grace. He looked at the Archangel, and Gabriel knew his name. _Isriel._ The Angel tucked his wings in tight and stepped out into the Void.

Nothing happened. Isriel took another step, held up by the Archangel’s powerful grace. The Void was pushed away from each footstep, curling back in to fill the gaps as Isriel moved forward. The Angel himself was uninjured, moving faster now, spreading his wings to help him fly back to the gate. Back at the cluster of angels, the Dominion was hurrying the other five along the cord.

“Don’t let go!” Gabriel called, before flying off to another cluster, throwing Cariel a new ball of grace.

Instead of returning to the gate himself, once the last Angel was safe, the Dominion turned to another group of stranded angels, flying there with the cord of grace still looped around his wrist. Gabriel’s grace stretched over the distance, keeping a thin path of _love_ open so the younger angels could move through the Void without being obliterated.

Heaven shook again, another wave of emptiness surging through the Borderlands to slam against the walls. Cariel braced himself against the eastern gate as Gabriel zipped along the edges, shouting for all of Raphael’s guards to retreat to the safety of Heaven while they still could. The walls were holding up against the nothingness, but the Borderlands were rapidly draining away into the clash of Michael and Lucifer.

“Gabriel!” Azazel called, throwing out a loop of his own grace to catch the Archangel’s attention. “We have to close the gate!”

The western side was still grey, and Raphael’s angels were fleeing through the western gate manned by Gabriel’s angels. The eastern gate was completely surrounded by the Void, and tendrils of darkness kept creeping toward the open doors. Cariel was managing to beat them back with a gathered handful of Gabriel’s grace, but the black nothingness was tireless. Gabriel landed in front of the Seraphim, balancing precariously on the very edge of Heaven.

“Do it,” he ordered. “You two, stay here. I’m going to Earth.”

“What good would that do?” Azazel asked. “You can’t interrupt their fight!”

“Look at what they’re doing to the Borderlands!” Gabriel threw out his arms, gesturing to the shadows that surrounded him. “They’re not even in this realm! Imagine what damage they’re doing to Earth! I have to protect the planet.”

“You’ll get yourself killed!” Cariel stepped toward Gabriel, grabbing the Archangel’s arm.

“If I can get them off Earth, it’ll be worth it.” Gabriel fought back another shiver, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he grabbed Cariel’s shoulders, meeting his gaze directly. “Cariel, if this… if it doesn’t go well, I want you to be in charge. Here.” He reached into his wings, drawing forth one gold-edged feather and presenting it to his second. “Until Raphael can assume control, _you_ lead Heaven.”

“I believe, as Michael’s second-” Azazel began, holding up one finger, but Gabriel turned a glare on the Seraph.

“I believe Michael isn’t _here_ right now, so as the most senior angel, I get to pick who’s next in line.”

Azazel’s eyes narrowed, and for the briefest moment, his smile flickered. Just as soon as it was gone, it was back, and the Seraph gave a little bow, backing away. “Have it your way.”

“Gabriel, I can’t accept this!” Cariel pushed at Gabriel’s hand holding the feather, shaking his head. “I’m not an Archangel!”

 _You are the cleverest Seraph in the entire Host,_ Gabriel whispered privately to Cariel, mind to mind. _You’ll find some way to make this work. Please, Cariel. For me._ He held out the feather again, watching Cariel’s resolve crumble.

 _Only if you promise to come back._ Cariel reached up and slowly took the feather from Gabriel.

_I promise._


	35. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Lucifer have their showdown in the Sahara, and Gabriel attempts to stop a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set Michael and Lucifer's battle in a place known as the [Richat Structure](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richat_Structure) today. It's an amazing natural phenomenon, but I rather like the thought of a climactic battle between the two most powerful Archangels creating it!

### Victory

Three thousand square miles of the Sahara Desert were scoured of sand. The tiny granules swirled through the air, spiraling into the center of the battle raging between the two oldest Archangels. A ball of mass kept growing between the clashing swords and slashing wings. When even the angels couldn’t reach each other over the ball, it exploded into streaks of dark lightning that destroyed light, the same dark lightning that had flashed through the Borderlands before the Void started to return. Lucifer hissed as one bolt speared the tip of a minor wing, sending shards of ice crumbling down. Michael dodged a line that would have severed his head from his neck. Gabriel curled his wings to spin around another tongue of the blackness, feeling it extinguish the closest flames as it nearly struck him. Even before the dark bolts dissipated, the two Archangels had flung themselves at each other again, starting the process all over again. 

The earth itself was trying to join in the battle, shoving up beneath the pair in a massive dome centered under Michael. Rock clawed its way up Lucifer’s legs, blasted away by the Archangel’s grace. The screaming, howling, raging winds that were being sucked between the pair slammed over the stone. Thousands of years of erosion passed in the blink of an eye, and still the angels attacked.

The winds ripped over the earth for hundreds of miles. The dark lightning could be seen halfway across the continent. Gabriel thanked God that this inevitable battle was happening on the western side of the world’s biggest desert, in one of the most uninhabited lands on the planet. Still, the Earth was in danger. Whether he intended to or not, Michael was molding the land beneath him, causing massive earthquakes to ripple though the land as he _pulled_ on the rock. The oceans and seas around the continent were rising around them, massive tides caused by Lucifer’s gravitational presence. If Gabriel didn’t get them off the Earth, and soon, they could flood the human settlements on the shorelines or shrink the land into a single giant mountain.

 _Why do I always have to clean up their messes?_ Gabriel didn’t dare to land on the undulating earth. He tumbled through the air as the concentrated mass between the angels exploded again, flinching as shards of rock sprayed against his skin. If he landed, Michael might trap him in the ground, or he might be pulled into the fracturing reality between the pair. At best, he probably wouldn’t be able to take off again, stuck forever as a witness to his brothers’ fight.

Gabriel had to get them to move. They kept slamming together, over and over again, concentrating their hurt in one spot on the planet. He had to get them off the ground, into the air, into what remained of the Borderlands. There, they couldn’t hurt the earth, they wouldn’t accidentally destroy humanity, and Michael, at least, would have the support of Heaven at his back. Gabriel swooped around the battle, circling the perimeter of the earthen scar they were creating. _How_ could he make them move?

Michael charged, his sword swinging through the air, slicing through the bulging darkness between them to swipe across Lucifer’s chest. Lucifer twisted away, his wings slashing around one, two, three, etching glowing scratches across Michael’s toughed grace. He continued his spin, following his wings with his own sword, but Michael swung a shield up to block, lunging into the opening left by Lucifer’s attack.

As Gabriel watched, he pressed his hands against his heart. He _needed_ to do this, his heart told him. Father told him to listen to his heart.

_It will not lead you astray._

“This had better be what you meant!” Gabriel shouted to his Father over the gale-force winds. He had to time things right, just right…

The singularity between the angels exploded again, hurling them apart. Gabriel immediately folded his wings and dropped, diving toward the middle of the battle. As he fell, he pulled his grace around his hands and arms, toughening his armor where he would be most vulnerable.

At the last moment, he snapped his wings out, checking his fall to swoop between Michael and Lucifer, who had come charging together again. He reached out with a scream of terror, his hands closing around the blades of their swords, feeling their wings slashing into him as they shouted their fury. He _pushed_ with his wings, as hard as he could, yanking the swords from his brothers’ hands. The silver blades bit through his grace and into his vessel, slicing through his spirit, but Gabriel shoved the pain away to climb into the sky. 

The screaming winds slowed as Gabriel flew toward the edge of the Earth, which could only mean one thing: Michael and Lucifer were not attacking each other anymore.

They were coming after _him_.

Gabriel didn’t spare a glance for the two burning cores of grace he could feel at his back. Michael and Lucifer were furious—at him, at each other—and both easily had more power to fly. They were gaining quickly on him, their heavy wings beating the air with percussive _whoomphs_ that Gabriel could feel down to his teeth.

 _Open, open, open!_ Gabriel slashed with his brothers’ swords, cutting through the fabric of the realm. If Raphael were watching, he would have ripped Gabriel’s wings off for the uncaring destruction, especially with the _Void_ right on the other side. But Raphael wasn’t watching, because Lucifer had nearly killed him. This battle needed to end. This _war_ needed to end.

Gabriel shot into the darkness of the Void just in time for a heavy weight to slam into his back, tumbling him forward, head over heels. His wings felt doused in the deepest ocean, and _ice_ raced down his arms, freezing his joints and draining his grace. Gabriel groaned as Lucifer snarled into his ear, his very bones _aching_.

“Stupid little angel,” Lucifer hissed, grabbing Gabriel’s left hand and pulling it toward him. Gabriel choked back a cry as his elbow broke and shoulder creaked from the strain. “That’s _mine_.”

Lucifer didn’t try to make Gabriel release his sword. He just snapped Gabriel’s frozen fingers off at the knuckle, ignoring how Gabriel screamed in pain. And now it was Michael’s turn to barrel into him, hitting Gabriel from the front and knocking him back into Lucifer. Michael didn’t even look at him, just snatched his sword away from Gabriel’s right hand, breaking more bones locked into place by Lucifer in the process. His eyes were blazing with a heavenly fire, focused entirely on his enemy.

Trapped between Michael and Lucifer was quite possibly the worst place Gabriel could be. Michael wasn’t even seeing him. Lucifer certainly wasn’t holding back. Gabriel fought to get his wings to move, but Lucifer’s frozen power was _right there_ , and Gabriel’s personal fire wasn’t strong enough to melt the hold his brother had on his body.

Michael roared at Lucifer, lifting his sword and swinging it toward the fallen Archangel. Lucifer snarled back, pulling Gabriel in front of him. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to curl up as he saw his own death on Michael’s blade.

“ _Gabriel_!”

An angel slammed into him from the side, warm grace oozing through him sticky-slow, hurling him out of the way. Lucifer screamed, his true voice erupting from his vessel’s throat, high and hurt and _beautiful_ , even in its agony. Gabriel fell gently through the Void, familiar arms holding him close. “Car-?”

 _Shh, don’t attract their attention!_ Cariel’s voice whispered inside Gabriel’s head, his own tucked against his choirmaster’s chest.

Gabriel gave a full-body shiver, cataloguing his damage. His hands burned in pain, his spirit was slashed, and his fingers were broken, and his grace was alarmingly low, but he was largely intact. His vessel was far more battered, blood staining his hands, arms, and back, several fingers completely missing, skin sliced and clothes shredded by the debris in the windstorm. His grace was already mending the little wounds, automatically trying to restore his physical body to peak condition.

Forcing his eyes open, Gabriel managed to move his arms, curling them around Cariel to hold him close. His second had dashed across the Void to remove him from the battle, risking his own life for Gabriel’s. “You were supposed to stay in Heaven,” he mumbled.

“You were supposed to come back,” Cariel shot back. “Couldn’t do that if Michael beheaded you.”

“Touché.” Gabriel rolled them to the side, looking across the Void. Michael and Lucifer were between them and Heaven’s gate, but he could fly northerly and evade the pair. His wings were moving again, though they were plain feathers and not battle-ready, stiff and sore from their ordeal.

 _Lucifer’s_ wings weren’t moving, or rather, some of them weren’t. The Archangel was lopsided now, one of his massive primary wings shorn off at the shoulder. Michael had his sword speared through another three wings, bright grace bleeding out through the injuries. He was wrapped around Lucifer, battering him down with his wings of shining steel, slicing into Lucifer’s arm over and over again, until Lucifer dropped his sword with another shout of pain. 

Michael would win. _Heaven_ would win. Lucifer was trying to push Michael off him with his remaining good wings, but the oldest Archangel could not be pried loose from his victory. He slashed across Lucifer’s face, nearly severing the human’s nose. “Surrender!” Michael grunted, swinging his wings down again. “Surrender, Lucifer!”

_**Please** …_

Michael’s whispered plea echoed in Gabriel’s head, and from how Lucifer’s wings stuttered, Gabriel knew Lucifer had heard it too. Michael had called to his brother the only way he could, over the Archangel-only frequency. Wrapping their grace together to speak mind-to-mind would have required more trust than either Archangel could afford right now.

Lucifer lifted his head, and the two brothers _looked_ at each other, into each other. Gabriel tightened his arms around Cariel, and after a moment, added a layer of wings to protect the weaker angel, just in case.

Just in case wasn’t necessary. Lucifer’s wings flared out once before falling limp, and he tipped his head back, baring his throat to Michael. He surrendered.

The war could end.


	36. Judgment Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is over, and now God’s judgment must be heard. What does this mean for Heaven’s brightest angel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished work on the sequel, guys! It's only half as long as this story, but it's done!

### Judgment Day

There was no cheering as the gates of Heaven swung open. Ranks of angels lined the Axis Mundi, watching silently as Michael shepherded a grace-bound Lucifer down the path. Gabriel followed, flying stiffly but under his own power. He held Lucifer’s sword, passed to him by Michael after the battle. Michael’s eyes had been exhausted as he handed the blade over, but more alarming to Gabriel, the oldest Archangel didn’t seem to be acknowledging that he had nearly killed his little brother to get to Lucifer. Did Michael simply want to pretend it didn’t happen, or had he honestly not even seen Gabriel with how strongly he was focused on Lucifer?

There would be time to question Michael later. Right now, Lucifer needed to be brought before God for judgment. None of the Archangels were a high enough authority to sit in judgment of all of Lucifer’s crimes.

Cariel was not at Gabriel’s side. As soon as they had returned to Heaven, Gabriel had nudged his second away. He couldn’t be seen leaning on another angel, not with Raphael barely clinging to life and Lucifer surrendered. Heaven needed the Archangels to be tall and strong now. Cariel had joined the crowd in the back, keeping pace with the slow procession of the Archangels. Gabriel could feel his presence, even though he couldn’t see the Seraph through the multitude of his brothers.

Joshua was standing outside the doors of the Throne Room, looking small and solemn without his usual broom. He bowed as the Archangels climbed the stairs before turning to push the doors open. “He is waiting.”

Michael pushed Lucifer past Joshua without a word. Gabriel managed a weak smile for the Cherub. As soon as all three were inside, the doors were pulled shut behind them, sealing them away with an echoing _boom_.

God was in His throne already, a blazing pillar that Lucifer flinched from. Gabriel silently watched his brother’s reaction, not feeling any need to cringe away himself. God was not loving right now, but His wrath was not suffocating Gabriel either. If anything, God felt sad, a heavy depression weighing down the five angels in the room.

There _were_ five angels in the room. Raphael was slumped in his throne, supported more by the seat than his own spirit. His power flickered thinly within him, and his eyes were closed, but he was present and alive. Gabriel could see his own grace woven through his twin, still doing most of the work of holding him together. Raphael would not heal quickly, but he _would_ heal. Relief Gabriel hadn’t realized he was praying for smoothed through his spirit, easing some of his prickling unease.

Standing at the base of God’s throne, the silver-winged Metatron fidgeted nervously, a pen poised over a notebook. As Gabriel’s attention slid over him, Metatron sent a smile his way. Gabriel couldn’t find it in himself to return the gesture. How could anyone be happy in this atmosphere? He looked away from the younger angel, shifting his grip on Lucifer’s sword.

“Father.” Michael bowed low, his wings brushing against the ground. Gabriel bowed as well, not quite as deeply, still too stiff to easily move. Between them, Lucifer scoffed and refused to even duck his head in respect. “We have brought You Lucifer, to be judged for his crimes against Heaven, humanity, and You.”

God gestured, and a raised dais was before Him. Metatron jumped at the sudden creation of something that had always been there, but Gabriel had long ago become accustomed to his Father’s habit of creating things out of nothing and tricking your mind into thinking they’d never been absent. Gabriel strode forward and set Lucifer’s sword on the stone, offering his Father another stiff bow before claiming his own throne.

Michael brought Lucifer forward, pressing his brother to his knees before God. Lucifer gave an obvious resistance, the resistance of an angel who couldn’t truly fight but was going to put up a show anyway just to prove that he was not submitting of his own free will. Michael said nothing about this, and his impassive grace gave nothing away except his own weariness. He stood behind Lucifer, tired but alert.

Silence fell over the Throne Room. God watched Lucifer, who stared defiantly back, his vessel’s skin blistering even further in the direct glow of God’s grace. Michael watched Lucifer. Raphael’s eyes cracked open to glance at Gabriel before watching Michael and Lucifer together, and Gabriel did the same. Metatron looked between everyone, his pen held perfectly still despite his fidgeting.

_Lucifer._

God’s voice rolled through the gathered angels, waves of disappointment breaking over their graces. Lucifer lifted his chin in defiance, his eyes glittering in their Father’s glow.

_You have turned on everything we hold dear._

“Respectfully, I haven’t.” Lucifer folded his arms over his chest. “I still love the world, love my brothers, love _You_. I have turned on the misguided insistence that we submit to humanity, that we turn aside our praise of You for praise of _them_ , that we are nothing more than slaves to be ordered about. I have not killed a single angel in this war between our realms. Even with Raphael, I purposely checked my blow, so the wound would not be fatal with Gabriel present.”

“You attempted to kill me,” Michael murmured behind Lucifer. The younger Archangel stiffened for a moment before letting his wings fall limp again. Only now did he give a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement, his grace infused with sadness.

“Respectfully again, _you_ were attempting to kill me first,” Lucifer replied, just as softly. “With our battle, Michael, I had to fight for your death in self-defense. You would not have permitted anything less.”

_The Nephilim?_

“I did not ask my brothers to lie with humans, nor did I ask them to create hybrid children. They did so of their own volition. Once the hybrids existed, I thought it better to take them in and give them guidance than to leave them to fend for themselves, alone and confused, as You did us.”

“The Nephilim killed angels,” Gabriel pointed out, closing his eyes and picturing Barachiel stretched out against the stone pyramid, wingless and near death. He was awake and moving around on his own now, but his back was still devoid of wings, and the angel’s once irrepressible joy had been replaced with a grey muteness.

“I ordered them only to defend our home,” Lucifer answered, turning his cool eyes toward Gabriel. “How they did so was their own choice. I do recall that you killed more of them single-handedly than all of the Nephilim combined did of the Host.”

_The angels you lured to your side?_

“The only brothers I asked to follow me are here with us now.” Lucifer extended his hands toward Michael and Gabriel. “Both refused. All the others chose to follow me without any encouragement on my part. Again, the only orders I gave were to defend our home and guide the Nephilim.”

“The angels,” Raphael whispered, his voice cracked and weak, “were more deadly than the Nephilim.”

“Does this honestly surprise you?” Lucifer asked. “Every last angel, even that tiny scribe standing there, is trained as a warrior. Even the youngest, weakest of our brothers has wielded a sword for billions of years.” Lucifer closed his eyes and ducked his head, clasping his hands over his vessel’s charred heart. “The fratricide devastates me, of course it does, but Raphael…” Lucifer opened his eyes now, canting his head toward the younger Archangel. “Like Gabriel with the Nephilim, more angels have died on _your_ sword than anyone else’s.”

“Don’t!” Gabriel pushed off his throne, balling his hands into fists as he shouted at Lucifer. “Don’t make this his fault! Don’t make it _our_ fault! _You_ instigated this bloody war! Just because you did not directly drive a sword into another’s core doesn’t make it any less your doing!”

God’s presence swelled over Gabriel, pressing him silently back into his throne. Gabriel huddled against the black stone, drawing his wings in around him. He hated this. He wanted it _over_. He wanted Heaven to go back the way it was. He wanted to be wrapped in his brothers’ wings again, curled together in the crown of Michael’s tower, or on the forest floor. That small paradise was gone now, forever destroyed.

_Lives have been wasted on all sides. Tell me, Lucifer, about the human souls you have claimed for yourself._

Lucifer’s mouth twisted into a sneer that was very nearly a pout, and he gave an absolutely human-like shrug. “I’ve given the most corrupt souls a place in which to congregate, so they stop wandering the Earth like wretched vagabonds. _Heaven_ certainly doesn’t accept them. It’s not like I’m stealing souls away from You. If anything, I’m protecting humanity.” Lucifer’s sneer ratcheted up several notches at the word ‘protecting,’ the curl of his lip clearly stating how he felt about _that_.

_And the demons?_

Surprise flickered through Lucifer’s entire grace for just a fraction of a second, so quickly shut down that Gabriel wondered if it had actually been real. What had God meant, demons? What was a demon?

“I haven’t the faintest idea what You’re talking about,” Lucifer answered primly, lifting his chin again, his grace blank but his eyes furious.

_You forget with whom you are speaking._

“I haven’t the faintest idea what You’re talking about,” Lucifer repeated, folding his arms across his chest.

 _ **I AM.**_ God’s voice rattled the foundations of the Throne Room. Metatron stumbled, his pen streaking ink across his page. Raphael grimaced and slumped further in his chair, while Gabriel folded his wings in tighter and hung on. Michael swayed but did not move his feet, and Lucifer flinched, shutting his eyes for several minutes. _I know **all** that happens in My universe. While you have been clever to cut off your realm, you are kneeling before Me now. There isn’t an inch of your mind I do not know. There isn’t a single secret I have not seen._

Lucifer opened his eyes slowly, lifting his face to glare at the Lord. “Then You know my purpose with them. I am demonstrating the _weakness_ of humanity, their inferiority. The demons are _proof_ that Your ‘greatest creations’ are beneath _us_!”

God allowed Lucifer’s last statement to ring through the Throne Room, accompanied only by the scratching of Metatron’s pen as he transcribed the proceedings. Slowly, the room filled with sadness, with despair, and with a cold, calm anger.

_I am decided._

Five angels looked to God for His verdict.

_Take up the sword, Michael._

Five angels looked to the sword God gestured at, Lucifer’s sword, resting on the dais. Michael stepped around Lucifer and approached the dais. He gave a little bow at the waist to their Father and reached out to curl his fingers around the hilt.

“You can’t.” Lucifer smirked at Michael as the oldest Archangel turned back to him. “You couldn’t kill me in the Borderlands. You won’t kill me here.”

“I am a good son,” Michael answered, his deep voice as cold as the stone, as unyielding as the mountains.

Centuries ago, Sammael had stood in Gabriel’s office and asked Michael if Michael would ever kill him if ordered. Gabriel remembered their conversation clearly. Sammael had been horrified, and Michael…

Michael had never actually answered.

_Remove his wings._

Michael stepped forward mechanically. Lucifer’s smirk was fading, turning into an enraged snarl. “Michael! Think for yourself for once! Do you really want to do this?”

Michael curled his free hand around Lucifer’s remaining primary wing, stretching it away from his brother’s body. He touched the blade of the sword to the joint and leaned in close to Lucifer’s ear. Gabriel felt his words more than he heard them.

“ _I am a good son._ “

The silver blade swung through the air and Lucifer screamed, his back arching away from the oldest Archangel. Michael’s face was impassive as he dropped the severed wing, ignoring how it scorched feather marks into the floor in favor of grabbing a second.

 _Gabriel._ God’s voice was enough to break through Lucifer’s pain, filling the Messenger’s mind. _You are still able to pass through the wards into his realm. Go there now. Cast them down. I will have that underworld broken open for the Host of Heaven to cleanse it._

“Yes, Father,” Gabriel whispered, choking the words out past a knot in his throat. Lucifer was on his hands and knees now, the floor around him blackened from thousands of destroyed feathers, and still Michael sliced away his brother’s wings. _Anything_ was better than bearing witness to this destruction.

God’s grace slid through Gabriel, filling him with the Holy Spirit, recharging his own tired energy and restoring his vessel completely. Gabriel flicked out his wings, no longer frozen and stiff, and darted for the doors.


	37. Michael and Sammael's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I was scared too, when Father first displayed His wrath,_ Michael once told his brothers. There’s a story there…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third of the Interlude chapters, little flashbacks to when the Archangels were kids. In this chapter, Michael is roughly equivalent to an older teenager here, about 16, while Sammael is closer to 4. In chronological order, this is the second Interlude.

### Michael and Sammael’s Interlude

“I'm bored, Michael!” The pudgy little fledgling angel hung off his older brother's wings, swinging himself between them. “Play with me!”

Michael fought the urge to twitch his wings and shake his baby brother loose. When Father had first made Sammael, first presented Michael with this little angel He had dubbed 'your perfect companion,' Michael had been overjoyed. He no longer had to stand alone in the Void against the shadow-creatures God called Leviathan. He no longer had to fight and run and hide, always watching his back, his front, his sides. He no longer had to curl up alone, smothering his grace to mask his light when he was injured, huddled in on himself and praying he wouldn't be noticed, that he would be allowed to heal unmolested. With Sammael came a second set of eyes and a second dose of grace. Together, they shone bright enough to blind the Leviathan and keep the monsters at bay.

Sammael also brought simple companionship to Michael. He talked, oh, he talked a _lot_ , talked about everything he saw and everything he felt and everything he imagined. He talked as Michael taught him how to move his wings to fly, and he talked as Michael taught him how to wield his sword to fight, and he talked as he curled up against Michael's chest, floating through the Void.

More than talking, Sammael _played_. He liked to make Michael chase him, and he liked to duck and weave around Michael's wings, and he liked to make up stories to share with Michael. Sammael was happiest when all attention was on him, and Sammael especially loved Michael’s attention.

Michael shook his wings, jarring Sammael loose. He caught him in one primary wing before Sammael could fall, sweeping him forward to look at his brother. Sammael shrieked with laughter and clapped his hands together, his little wings stirring against Michael’s feathers. “Do that again! Again!”

“Sammael…” Michael plucked his brother off his wing and drew him in close. Sammael squirmed in Michael’s arms, trying to climb over his shoulder to get back into his wings.

“I want to do that again!”

“Sammael!” Michael snapped his brother’s name, struggling not to shake the little angel. “Just _calm down_!”

Sammael stilled, looking up at Michael with big eyes, twisting his hands together. “Michael’s mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Michael had lost count of how many times he’d told that to Sammael. All the little angel had to do was stare at him with those big, big eyes, and Michael acquiesced to whatever he wanted.

Sammael gave a cheer at Michael’s reassurance, flinging his arms around Michael’s neck to hug him briefly before scrambling over his shoulder and tumbling back among Michael’s wings.

A fleck of anger flared up within Michael’s spirit. Why did he _always_ have to submit to Sammael’s wishes? Why did his brother get to use him as his personal entertainment? Why didn’t Father ever step in and take care of Sammael? The little angel gave a hard yank on one of Michael’s wings, and the older angel grimaced in pain. _Why him?_

It shouldn’t have to be him. Sammael was an angel, same as Michael. He had fewer wings, but his grace was brighter than Michael’s had been when he was new. He was young and small, but not as small as Michael had been when he was first left alone.

It shouldn’t have to be him. It _didn’t_ have to be him. Michael growled and flapped his wings, dumping Sammael into the Void. “You stay here,” he ordered Sammael, pointing a finger at the baby angel.

“Michael?” Sammael’s eyes were widening again, but Michael wasn’t having any of it this time.

“ _Stay_!” he demanded, turning away from Sammael’s pleading grace and flying off into the Void.

Sammael didn’t listen. Sammael _never_ listened to him. The little Archangel chased after Michael, his wings flapping as hard and fast as he could push them, but Michael had advantages of size and strength over him. One push of Michael’s wings required a thousand beats of Sammael’s to catch, and Sammael was soon far behind the older angel. Michael curled himself into a ball, folding his wings around him and veiling his grace. Without his light in the Void, Sammael had no way of finding him.

“Michael?”

The baby angel tired quickly, his wings slowing and eventually falling still. “Michael!” His little voice echoed through the darkness, calling to his brother, but Michael didn’t answer. He just wanted some _peace_. Was that too much to ask? Just a few moments on his own, without a baby tugging on his feathers or chasing after his wings or shattering the blessed silence with the sound of his own voice.

Sammael called after Michael several more times, but then he fell quiet and Michael could finally relax. He could still make out his little brother, far in the distance, a tiny pinprick of light. Father had told him to watch over Sammael. He didn’t say Michael had to be constantly at Sammael’s side. 

The older Archangel spread his wings out and stretched in the Void, still keeping himself veiled. He purred to himself in pleasure, closing his eyes and reveling in the silence. This was wonderful. Peace and quiet, safety and darkness.

Something brushed over his spirit, a tickle of shadow. Michael froze, his eyes snapping open. He saw only darkness. _Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move!_ Old habits were rushing back to him, old panic flaring deep within his grace. 

The Leviathan were not gone. They avoided the angels, but they still existed in the Void. Michael had forgotten. He had _forgotten_! He had grown used to the safety he shared with Sammael, had grown lazy and complacent, and now at least one of the Leviathan was curling around his spirit. Its touch was gentle, and it wasn’t really holding Michael, so it wasn’t a threat—yet. Perhaps it didn’t realize Michael was an angel, since he was veiled and dark himself.

 _Sammael._ His little brother was still twinkling in the Void, his bright grace a beacon for all the evil creatures that dwelled in the shadows. Sammael had never experienced an attack from the Leviathan. Michael had taught him how to draw his sword, but Sammael had never needed to use it. Would he even realize the Leviathan were a threat?

Michael needed to get back to Sammael before the Leviathan found him, but he couldn’t move with a Leviathan on him. No matter how much he tried, Michael could never imitate the liquid flow of the shadow monsters. As soon as he moved, it would know he was an angel and would attack. 

A scream, high and terrified, reverberated through the Void. _Sammael!_ Michael could feel his brother’s pain lance through his own grace, connected as they were. Michael reacted without thinking, flaring his wings wide and dropping his veil with a shout of his own.

Illuminated by the sudden grace, the Leviathan on Michael’s spirit turned its head, giant mouth splitting open wide and baring hundreds of sharp fangs. Michael lashed out, his sword punching through the creature of shadow, exploding it into thousands of pieces of black goo. Before it had even settled, Michael was flying back toward Sammael as fast as he could, his wings shoving aside the Leviathan as he moved. “Sammael! Sammael, to me!”

Sammael screamed again, wordless, confused, and abruptly cut off into a gurgle. Michael screamed right back, pure panic propelling him forward. “ _Sammael!_ “

The tiny angel was hanging limp in the mouth of a Leviathan, four more diving around his body and tearing huge chunks from his wings. Sammael twitched, his eyes fluttering open as Michael dive-bombed the Leviathan, his sword swinging. He reached one hand for his older brother only to have a Leviathan clamp down and tear at his spirit. Sammael twitched again, the light in his eyes fading fast. His grace was shredded, and the Leviathan were feasting on his spirit even as Michael tried to beat them off. For every monster he killed, two more came rushing in, snapping at his own wings. His grace alone wasn’t enough to drive them back, and Sammael’s grace was too weak now to do anything to help. 

Michael managed to snatch his brother away from the Leviathan, holding what remained close against his own spirit. Even as he folded a wing around what remained of Sammael’s form, he knew he was too late. His little brother was fading away, his spirit barely glowing against Michael’s.

Light, pure and white, exploded around Michael. The Archangel instinctively curled up, throwing his wings around himself and the frail angel he held. Anger and fury, pure _wrath_ , slammed into the Leviathan, instantly obliterating them. The ones that escaped the immediate destruction were wound up in one giant hand, knotted together and thrown into a hole ripped into the very nothingness of the Void. Before they could swim out, the hole was shut, sealed tightly against escape.

“ _Father…_ ”

Michael’s weak cry was shoved aside by God as the Lord dealt with the creatures attacking his sons. Michael was shunted aside, ignored. He accepted the rebuff, aware that he had brought this on them by leaving Sammael, and instead turned his attention to his fading brother. “Don’t go, Sammael,” he murmured, reaching up to run his fingers along Sammael’s face. His brother’s wings were all but gone, a full half of his spirit consumed by the Leviathan. He didn’t even open his eyes at Michael’s touch, his remaining arm dangling limply to the side.

“Give him to me.” 

Michael looked up sharply at the new voice. It was old and powerful, like his Father’s, but it _wasn’t_ his Father. It was something he had never heard before, something that poured pure cold into the core of his spirit. A dark creature stood before him, not a shadow like the Leviathan, but a being of power, like Father. Instead of being a source of Life, this creature was a source of anti-Life. While Father put life into things, this thing took it out.

“Death,” the being said. “The word you are looking for is death. _I_ am Death, and your brother is dying. Give him to me.”

“No.” Michael tucked Sammael against his chest, lifting his sword and pointing it at the creature, at Death. “No! You can’t have him!”

“You can’t keep him,” Death stated, crowding closer. Michael’s sword, his whole arm, went right through the being without any apparent effect. “He has been marked as one of mine.” 

“No!” Michael dropped his sword to hold Sammael with both arms, clutching his brother against him, but Death just reached past his hold, drawing Sammael away. “ _No!_ “

_STOP._

God’s voice boomed through the gathered beings. Michael immediately locked up at God’s order, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his little brother in Death’s arms. Death turned his shadowed face toward God, tucking Sammael against him.

_Michael._

Michael flinched at the sound of his name, wrapping his wings over his head. The Leviathan were gone, but his Father was still angry. Angry at him. “I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered, clenching his hands into fists, cursing his own uselessness. He should have been with Sammael. He should have protected his brother.

_For what?_

“For failing him. For failing _You_.”

_What did I ask of you?_

“Watch over Sammael.” Michael closed his eyes. “Keep him safe.”

_Did you?_

“No,” Michael whispered.

_Why not?_

Michael could feel his wings trembling. Father’s anger was a cold wind wrapping around him, ruffling his feathers and setting his grace on edge. How could he explain that he had just wanted to be alone for a moment? That after all God had given him, he had just wanted to get _away_? What words could describe how exhausting Sammael’s constant presence had been?

Sammael was faded now, silent and still, devoured by the shadows, his empty shell lying limp in Death’s arms. Michael had wanted freedom from Sammael, and now he had it. Sammael would never laugh with him again, never curl tiny fingers around his hand, never snuggle into his wings and sing. Michael wrapped his arms around his chest, immeasurable sadness filling his core. “I didn’t want it _forever_!”

It wasn’t an answer to Father’s question, and Michael knew it. He could feel his Father’s wrath pressing down on him, a thousand pins driving into his spirit, piercing through his grace as if it wasn’t even there. Father’s fury sliced through his wings and speared his arms, drove into his mind and dragged his grief out, exposing his innermost thoughts to the universe. Death watched dispassionately, and Sammael did nothing. He’d never do anything again. “I wanted… I wanted him to stop.” Michael had to choke each word out, drowning in the disapproval from his Father. “I just wanted him to _stop_ …”

_Your selfish want has been granted._

“Not like this!” Michael turned to God, grabbing at his Father’s hand, heedless of the danger that put him in. “Please, Father, I didn’t want him to stop _forever_! Please, You have to fix him! I’ll never wish him to stop again! _Please_!” His hands blistered as he touched God, but Michael still held on, enduring the pain as he beseeched his Father for intervention.

For the longest time, God said nothing. He watched Michael, His judgment heavy on Michael’s wings. Michael pressed his forehead to his Father’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for all he was worth for his Father’s forgiveness.

_I should leave him dead. Leave you alone in the dark, to suffer the consequences of your thoughtless deeds. You disobeyed Me, Michael. You deserve no reward._

“No,” Michael whispered, shaking his head in denial and streaking a fresh burn across his spirit where it brushed his Father’s hand. “No, please, no…” Michael did not want to return to the dark, to once again be hunted and hounded by the tireless Leviathan, or whatever monster took their place. He did not want to be _alone_ , one solitary mind in the endless Void. Father would never trust him with another brother. Michael didn't _want_ another brother, not even one who wasn't as talkative or energetic. He wanted Sammael. He wanted to take back his selfish actions. He wanted to have his old brother back, _his_ brother.

“Mich…ael?”

The voice was weak, breaking on the last syllable of his name, but Michael spun to face it all the same. Sammael was stirring in Death's arms, lifting his head and stretching his tiny hands (two hands, _two_!) toward his older brother. “Sammael!” Michael had never flown away from his Father so quickly before, closing the gap between them and wresting Sammael from Death's arms.

Already, Sammael looked healthier, alert and alive. His wings had reformed, and his spirit was steadily increasing in brightness. Sammael wrapped his arms around Michael's neck and squeezed tightly, pressing his little face against his brother's throat. “I lost you, Michael! You were gone, and I couldn't find you!”

“I know.” Michael's hands were still burnt, stiff and sore, but he forced his fingers to curl gently around Sammael's back, holding him as close as possible. “I'm sorry, Sammael. I'm so sorry. I'll never do that again. I'll always watch over you. Always. I love you.”

“Touching,” Death drawled, folding his thin arms. Michael drew his wings forward, wrapping them protectively around Sammael and glaring at the taker of life. “If I'm not needed?”

God gestured with one great hand, and Death was gone, disappearing into the Void. Michael closed his eyes for a moment before hesitantly looking back at his Father.

 _Sammael did no wrong,_ God said, answering a question Michael hadn't voiced. _He didn't deserve to be punished for **your** misdeeds._

“I won't do it again,” Michael immediately promised. “Father, I won't disobey you again. I won't. Not ever again. I will be a good son.”

 _I may not be so lenient next time,_ God warned, lifting a finger to his oldest son. He was gone before Michael could utter any more promises, leaving nothing but the Void to surround the two angels.

Michael looked out into the dark, the not-so-empty dark, filled with not-so-nice things. The Leviathan were gone, but Michael did not know what else crept through the shadows to take their place. He shivered, all his wings trembling, and curled in closer to Sammael.

“You're shaking, Michael.” Sammael lifted his head to look at his brother, innocence still shining out of his bright eyes. “Are you scared?”

“No,” Michael murmured, running his hand over Sammael's glowing wings. The feathers pricked his burnt spirit, but Michael reveled in the pain. It meant he wasn't alone. He hadn't been forsaken in the dark. “No, little Light Bringer. Not anymore.”


	38. The Cracking of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has been sent to unlock the gates of Hell. Lucifer’s punishment must be completed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see how much of this story I can post before the new year! Think I can finish it? Still have 26 more chapters to go!

### The Cracking of Hell

“Gabriel!”

The whole Host had gathered around the Throne Room, waiting, watching, silent and impassive. As soon as Gabriel burst forth, a flicker of movement rippled through them, like a giant intake of breath. Cariel pushed his way forward, his wings fanning the air as he hurried to his choirmaster’s side. Azazel slipped through in his wake, waiting at the edge of the crowd, his ever-present smile looking uncharacteristically fake. “Gabriel, what’s going on? Gabriel!”

Gabriel didn’t stop for Cariel. He didn’t stop for anyone in the Host. He tore over the heads of his brothers, easily able to leave Cariel behind with his stronger wings. Once out the eastern side, no angel would follow him across the Void that had eaten the Borderlands. It was too dangerous. They’d have to change direction, try north or south, if the Void hadn’t spread to those gates, or go all the way west if it had. Cariel _would_ chase, Gabriel knew by now, but he had a head start.

It took twelve seconds to cross the realms and slip into Lucifer’s. Gabriel’s spirit seized as soon as he stepped into the dark realm Lucifer called home. Fire and brimstone filled the air, and the acrid stench of sulfur poisoned every breath. The heat was oppressive and evil, not singing to Gabriel the way fire was meant to. Scores of Nephilim and lost angels glanced over as Gabriel stepped in, but none moved to stop him. Over the course of the war, the Messenger had become a familiar enough face that his presence was no longer seen as dangerous.

This place was safe. Safe from the devastation above. Safe from God’s influence. This place was evil, yes, but evil could be purged. True safety was rare. Gabriel could be free here, free to do whatever he pleased. He could easily cut Cariel’s name into the rock, and Barachiel’s, pull his favorite angels down here with him and just live peacefully until the end of days. He didn’t _need_ to obey Father’s orders. Father couldn’t reach him here.

Gabriel leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees and forcing himself to breathe, to focus on the movement of the sickly air in and out of his vessel’s lungs. The corrupted wards were whispering to him, tempting him, twisting his thoughts into something not of his own making. If he stayed down here too long, Lucifer’s logic would make all too much sense, and Gabriel might become his brother’s successor.

Just acknowledging that staying down here would be bad was enough for him to win control of his sanity. Gabriel took one more breath before straightening up again. He spread his wings and jumped, taking to the heavy air. The Nephilim couldn’t reach him here, but the other angels were still a threat. Still, flying wasn’t banned. A couple were actively watching him now, but no angel moved toward him.

Gabriel turned toward the great rock wall that held the wards. He carefully eased closer to them, reaching out, his fingers hovering inches away from the carvings of his own name. The deep lines etched into the rock were barely visible, so filled with pus and rot. Even as he held his hand near, the fleshy goo bulged outward, a bubble popping across his fingers. Gabriel jerked his hand back, watching with a horrified fascination as the specks of sickness seeped into his skin, thin greenish lines starting to pulse along his veins. He didn’t _feel_ any different, but he suspected this was a Not Good thing.

A pulse of grace down his arm burnt away the disease, returning his vessel's flesh to its usual freckled state. Gabriel curled his fingers and relaxed them. The two angels watching from the forest of root and bone were starting to approach him, their hands loosely placed on the hilts of their swords.

“I'd stay back if I were you,” Gabriel remarked, surprised at how calm his voice was. He was about to break down the door to Lucifer's realm and let the Host come flooding in, and yet he talked to his doomed brothers like he was simply remarking on the weather. “I don't want to have to hurt you.”

His brothers were only Angels, accustomed to obeying orders without question. Lucifer had ordered them to guard the entrance, and Gabriel was implying a threat. They rushed toward Gabriel, drawing their swords and calling out for reinforcements. Gabriel cursed under his breath, igniting his wings as he swung them around. One, two blows, and both Angels were tumbling toward the ground, falling among the sulfur in crumpled little heaps. They weren't _dead_ , but as their feathers smoldered, Gabriel knew they wouldn’t be flying again anytime soon.

The Nephilim on the ground were shouting, and some managed to pull out bows and arrows. Gabriel ignored the weapons, even when arrows slammed into his vessel's body. Wood and metal couldn't hurt him, not even— _ouch!_ —cursed metal like some of these arrows were. They stung, but the damage was healed instantly by Gabriel's freshly recharged grace. The sound of hundreds of wingbeats filling the air, now _that_ was more concerning. Without Lucifer, this realm had very little that could actually damage Gabriel, but Gabriel still didn't relish the thought of fighting off his brothers. He turned back to the wall, summoning up his grace, feeling the power swell around his hands.

“ _Haaaaaa!_ “ Gabriel slammed both palms against the rock, shoving his grace into the sickness and stones. Fire raced through the infection, setting every last sigil aglow, brighter and brighter until even the Nephilim were crying out in pain, covering their eyes. Gabriel remained in the center of it all, feeding the entire raw power of an Archangel into Lucifer's wards, grabbing every last line and _pulling_.

The wall exploded. Nephilim screamed. Lucifer's angels tumbled through the air. Gabriel himself was blasted back, the force catapulting him into the arching bones of long-dead dinosaurs. Even before the stones finished falling, the Heavenly Host was flooding in, thousands upon thousands of Michael's angels, Raphael's angels, even Gabriel's angels, led by the Seraphim.

The Host was ruthless, and it outnumbered and outmatched Lucifer's armies. Battle cries filled Lucifer’s realm, sung to the accompaniment of swinging swords and screams. Gabriel worked himself free of the bones he was entangled in but did not join the battle. He felt sick, sick in his heart, in the core of his spirit.

Stretched out on the stone, the two angels Gabriel had swatted out of the air were lying still. Their eyes were wide and staring, wings burned into the rock, bloody stab wounds over their cores. Neither angel had stood a chance against the force of the Host. Gabriel closed his eyes and whispered an apology. He hadn’t wanted this, not any of it. All he really wanted now was to just walk away.

Grace swirled around him, some flaring stronger, some winking out. Nephilim and angels and the twisted soul creatures God had called _demons_ struggled to escape. Gabriel didn’t try to stop any of them. Until he had been given orders from Michael or God Himself, Gabriel’s job here ended when the wards fell.

_BOOM_

The cavern shook, sulfur crystals breaking loose and raining down around Gabriel. A heavy presence was welling up within him, growing closer, battering open new portals to this realm.

_BOOM_

Gabriel ruffled his wings as the cavern shook again, but they were soon coated in a thin layer of yellow dust. Two more pieces of grace were slipping through the growing cracks. Lucifer had returned to his realm.

_BOOM_

_Everything_ was screaming now, Host and fallen alike, and every living creature was making its way toward the exit. Gabriel shook out his wings again and turned against the flow, striding into the bowels of the underworld.

The entire structure had completely changed since Gabriel was here last. Lucifer’s realm was over three times the size it had been, some space intentionally created, other new tunnels still shedding dirt and rock from the exuberance of the Host. Gabriel spread his wings and glided into the darkness, following the tug on his spirit. Lucifer was back, but Michael’s grace was bigger and stronger, keeping him in check, and God Himself had accompanied the brothers. While the Host fled His direct presence, Gabriel sought it out.

God had punched straight through the entire realm, leaving a wide swath of destruction in His wake. He went deep, deeper even than the fiery Pit, into the darkness that was cold and sharp, as unloving as His wrath. Gabriel landed gently behind Michael and Lucifer, curling his burning wings around himself for protection in this hostile area.

Michael glanced back at Gabriel. For a moment, their eyes connected, and Gabriel was lost, swept away by the complete broken _devastation_ deep within his brother’s spirit. Michael took no pleasure from punishing Lucifer. Lucifer was his most beloved brother, and everything Michael was doing was hurting him, hurting them both.

Gabriel stepped forward and opened his wings to wrap them around Michael as well, pressing against his brother’s back and lending him as much strength as he could. Michael looked away, but Gabriel could feel the tiniest flicker of gratitude in Michael’s grace.

God _burned_ in the darkness, Creating. A cage grew out of the shadows, with bars of pure, angelic spirit. It pulsed with a dark light of its own, sentient, alive, _angry_.

 _This will be your prison, Lucifer._ The cage burst open, and Michael stepped forward, pushing Lucifer ahead of him. Gabriel stayed where he was, his wings parted as Michael moved away. _The lives of all your brothers who have fallen in this war will live on here._

Lucifer struggled, but Michael shoved him in the cage. Lucifer clawed at Michael’s arms, trying to escape, but Michael reached around his brother and raked his hand down Lucifer’s wingless back. The younger Archangel collapsed with a scream of pain, spasming against the bars.

Michael stepped back, out of the cage, and God gestured. The door slammed shut, and the walls flared to light, hiding Lucifer from sight. Lucifer screamed again, angry this time, and threw himself against the prison. Over and over, Lucifer raged, but the cage held. Gabriel turned against Michael’s side, unable to look at how the prison shook with every slam of the trapped Archangel. Michael curled a wing around Gabriel but did not look away himself.

God moved to the brothers, His own grace wrapping around both of them, blanketing them in warmth and His love. Despite His presence, Gabriel still felt cold. 

_Lucifer will remain here until the end days, when Michael will destroy him. Lucifer will serve out his sentence in solitude. We shall seal his cage six hundred times. He will be lost and forgotten, and all of this realm he created will serve as his guards. As it is said, so it is done_

“It is done,” Michael whispered back, his wing tightening around Gabriel.

“It is done,” Gabriel echoed.


	39. End of the Nephilim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Lucifer’s locked away, it’s time to clean up some of the mess he left behind.

### End of the Nephilim

Palaikastro slept.

It was several hours past midnight, and the sun was not due to rise for many more, so of course the people of Palaikastro were asleep, but the grace of an Archangel blanketed the entire city, ensuring that no innocent human would open their eyes and disturb the events of the night.

Gabriel stepped lightly through the gathered audience filling the streets of the Minoan city. Several hundred Nephilim tracked his movements, their glowing grey eyes narrowed and angry. Gabriel’s grace lashed their hands together and wrapped around their mouths, keeping them bound and silent without any outward sign.

“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.” Gabriel looked at the nearest Nephilim, who growled at him. “No? You’re probably wondering how to break free and tear me down. Let me answer that for you, at least. You can’t.”

Gabriel climbed a few steps at the front of the crowd so he could look out at the hybrids and they could all see him. He linked his hands together behind his back, taking a quick count. Two hundred and fifty-seven Nephilim: every last Nephilim released into the world after the sacking of the Underworld. It had taken Gabriel and his angels several months to track them all down, but they had worked without complaint. Each time a Nephilim was discovered, they were hunted down and deposited here, on the isle of Crete. Angels slipped into all of the harbors, ensuring no Nephilim could get off the island. Some tried to swim away, but those were all slain in the water. Crete had become their prison, but as long as they behaved, they were allowed to live.

Of course, being allowed to live had meant they were available to give information to the angels. Gabriel had reluctantly borrowed Alistair’s skilled interrogators to question the Nephilim. Thanks to their hard work, Gabriel knew exactly how many Nephilim he had needed to find.

Gabriel rocked onto his toes and back onto his heels, offering his nieces and nephews a bright and utterly insincere smile. “Even if I didn’t have this city flanked with my Angels, none of you, not even all of you together, are a match for an Archangel. _I’m_ holding you here, and you don’t get to leave unless I say so. Now. Do you think I’ll say so?” He looked down at the closest Nephilim, catching those grey eyes with his own. “Well? Do you?”

The Nephilim glared and slowly shook his head. Gabriel’s smile grew. “That’s _right_! You’re all going to die here. Tonight.”

For better or worse, the Nephilim did not panic or cry. They continued to glare at Gabriel, their concentrated hate nearly palpable in the warm summer night.

“Lucifer chastised me for killing your kind,” Gabriel continued, pacing across the step. “You were only acting in self-defense, he said. Your orders were to defend your home, nothing more.” Gabriel stopped and spread his arms out, looking down at the Nephilim. “I can understand that. I can _respect_ that. If that had been all you did, I would have granted you a pardon and let you live your lives. But I also know for a _fact_ that _not one of you_ stopped there.”

Gabriel’s smile was gone now, replaced with a thunderous anger. “Every last one of you here has hunted angels for _sport_ , innocent angels! You have murdered us for _fun_! Worse than that, you have played games with the humans. You have enslaved them, attacked them, and turned them on each other! _Every last one of you_ has committed heinous crimes against the people of the Earth. Against _both_ your families!” Gabriel slid his sword out of its sheath, sweeping it over the crowd. “ _That_ , I cannot respect. You had great power, and you used it for evil deeds. For that, you all will die.”

Of all the Archangels, Gabriel was the most peaceful. He loved laughter and talking, not charging into battles and swinging his sword. However, at his core, Gabriel believed in justice. Bad people deserved bad things, and these Nephilim were no angels. Gabriel cut through the entire crowd in just under three minutes. His sword dripped onto the crimson-flooded streets of Palaikastro, and when Gabriel wiped the back of his arm across his forehead, he left a bloody smear across his vessel’s skin.

Gabriel lifted his hand and gestured for one of his angels to approach. The nearest, a small Dominion who served under Cariel, flitted to his side. “Sir?”

“This mess needs to be cleaned up before the humans awake,” Gabriel said, looking around at the corpses filling the streets. “See that it is done.”

“Yes sir.” The Dominion, Samandiriel, saluted to Gabriel and turned back to his garrison to relay the order.

As the angels sprang into action, grabbing bodies and vanishing, or whisking their grace over the spilled blood to mop up the mess, Gabriel snapped his fingers to erase the blood from his own body. He tucked his pristine sword away and leapt into the air. First, he’d deliver his vessel back home, and then he’d return to Heaven himself. He needed some _peace_.

After depositing his vessel back in the human’s bed, Gabriel slipped through the far edge of the Borderlands and back into Heaven. Raphael’s angels had managed to contain the destructive Void to the eastern side of Heaven, but they had not been able to begin filling the nothingness. Gabriel suspected the repairs would take at least one Archangel, and Heaven was woefully short on those right now. Sammael, the most beautiful, most beloved of angels, was dead, replaced with the monster known as Lucifer, and even he was gone, sealed away in a prison that had been buried under God’s departure from the underworld. Raphael was badly wounded, barely able to function in his high tower to the east. Michael was distant and broken, silently watching the Host from eyes reflecting a spirit shattered into a thousand shards. Only Gabriel was functioning on anything close to his old level of ability, and he was exhausted from trying to fill the roles of every choirmaster. 

“Cariel!” Gabriel called out to his second as he stepped into his office, but he was greeted by silence. His office was empty.

Gabriel frowned; it wasn’t like Cariel to not be waiting for him. Sure, Cariel had his own office… somewhere. The Seraph just hadn’t used it in several thousand years. He usually worked out of Gabriel’s office, since Gabriel was so rarely there. It made things easier to work together instead of splitting records between the offices.

Cariel was allowed to have a life of his own, but Gabriel still frowned as he swept several pages off the floor. There was paper strewn about, like Cariel had given up in frustration and thrown an entire file in the air. While the disarray didn’t actually affect Gabriel’s preferred method of filing (put things down wherever they fit and forget about them), it was highly unusual for the typically organized Seraph. Gabriel set the paper on his desk and stretched out his grace, feeling for his lieutenant. Cariel did not answer his wordless call. There was no answering flare of grace from the Seraph. Gabriel frowned and walked out of his office again. Cariel was hiding from him. But where?

Gabriel strode through the halls of his tower, nodding and smiling at any angel he passed. He asked all ranked Dominion or higher if they had seen Cariel, but most of them shook their heads. His second hadn’t been felt in the tower for several hours now, at least. This absence was worrying.

An unexpected concentration of Seraphim grace from the forty-seventh floor caught Gabriel’s attention. Floors forty-two through fifty-two were set aside for the angels managing the Earth, and one Seraph ruled over all ten. It had been several hundred years since Barachiel walked these halls. His angels continued to operate fairly autonomously, with Cariel stepping in on the few occasions they needed a Seraph’s judgment, but Cariel never intruded into Barachiel’s space. Gabriel detoured through the forty-seventh floor to investigate.

A slim angel sat behind Barachiel’s desk, rifling through a drawer. He looked up as Gabriel stepped inside, but Gabriel didn’t need to see his face to recognize his lost Seraph. Only one angel was missing his wings. 

“Barachiel! You’re back!”

Barachiel smiled warmly at Gabriel, smoothly pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “Returned an hour ago. I’m glad to _be_ back. Five minutes in your tower proved more therapeutic than the years I've spent under Raphael's care.”

Gabriel pulled Barachiel around the desk and into a hug, careful to keep his wings away from the maimed Seraph. He could feel ridges along Barachiel's back, hard lines of his spirit that were shaping into new wings. “I hope Raphael didn’t mistreat you.”

The younger angel stiffened at the first touch, but he soon relaxed against Gabriel, wrapping his arms around his choirmaster. “No, not at all. I had the very best of care at the hands of his healers. I just… his tower is so _sterile_. No one laughs there. No one even _smiles_. I felt so small, so insignificant.”

“I’m sorry I did not visit you,” Gabriel began, but Barachiel interrupted with a shake of his head, followed by a flutter of his shoulders that would have corresponded to shifting, twitching wings.

“You had your own duties to attend to, and I know how you feel about Raphael. I did not expect to see you, or even as many of my angels as I _did_ see. I think every angel under my command came by my room at least once.”

“They missed you. No one in Heaven can replace you, Barachiel.” Gabriel spoke his Seraph’s name lovingly, letting the sounds caress Barachiel’s damaged spirit. He smiled as Barachiel closed his eyes, clearly reveling in the pleasure.

“I heard you yourself came to my aid.” Barachiel opened his eyes again to look up at Gabriel. “You saved my life. Thank you. We were taken by surprise…”

“Lucifer ordered your attack,” Gabriel stepped away from Barachiel, turning toward the Seraph’s window. “He wanted me to know how powerful he was. He ordered your attack to ensure I would do what I could to end the war.”

“Did it work?” Barachiel asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Partially.” Gabriel sighed. “ _I_ did what Lucifer wanted, delivered his message, but Michael set his wings against him.”

“And so brother fought brother for centuries more?”

Gabriel nodded tiredly, sitting on the corner of Barachiel’s desk. “The Nephilim are no more, at least. I executed the last of them this morning.”

Barachiel’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he said nothing as he turned his attention back to the reports he had been trying to catch up on.

“They won’t hurt you again,” Gabriel murmured, watching his Seraph.

Barachiel looked up sharply. “That wasn’t what concerned me.”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, encouraging Barachiel to explain. The younger angel looked away, his fingers clenching into fists, hesitating before the words burst out. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t their _fault_! None of them asked to be created. They were following their orders, same as any other angel of Heaven. Can they really be punished for obedience? Did they all deserve slaughter?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered. “They went against the will of God.” He held up a hand to stop Barachiel from protesting. “Obedience is celebrated only if it follows God’s plan for the universe, Barachiel. They were obedient, yes, but to the wrong leader. They were found guilty and received the punishment they deserved. Their executions were swift. None of them were forced to linger in pain.”

“They didn’t know any better.” Barachiel sank into his chair, resting his forehead in his hands. “Gabriel, none of them were given a chance to know Heaven. Ultimately, they didn’t have a choice. How could they be punished for not being exposed to God?”

“They were the children of angels and humans,” Gabriel argued back. “They were created in God’s image. All of them had a spark of God’s grace at their core, just as all of us do, all of humanity does. Any one of them had the capacity for great things, _good_ things, and none of them chose to exercise that ability. Just as any human who lives a good life can find eternal rest in Heaven, any Nephilim who lived a good life could have been pardoned.”

“And none of them did?”

“None of them.” Gabriel reached out to smooth his fingers over Barachiel’s head. “Barachiel, I did check. They all received what they deserved. You know I’m not a bloodthirsty monster.”

“A lot can change in two centuries,” Barachiel murmured.

Gabriel drew his hand back abruptly, stung by his Seraph’s words, his accusation. To his credit, Barachiel looked just as horrified by what he said as he looked up at Gabriel.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to… I know you’re not… I just meant…”

“What did you mean?” Gabriel asked quietly, pressing his hands in his lap.

Barachiel’s shoulders shivered again, shifting phantom wings. “Raphael,” he began warily, “is Heaven’s Healer. By his very nature, he should be the gentlest Archangel.” Gabriel snorted at the thought of Raphael being gentle, and Barachiel nodded a little in agreement. “Exactly. It’s easy to forget how…”

“Tactless?” Gabriel suggested, earning himself a tiny smile from Barachiel.

“I was going to say abrupt. It’s easy to forget how abrupt he actually is when you don’t interact with him often. While I was healing, he did come in regularly to check on my progress.”

“I thought he left you in the care of some Cherubim,” Gabriel said, frowning a little. “That’s what I heard.”

“He did,” Barachiel confirmed. “But then he himself would come in often, every other month or so.”

“You saw Raphael more than you saw me.” Gabriel felt vaguely guilty for abandoning Barachiel for his duty, but Barachiel’s grace held no resentment.

“Exactly,” the Seraph said. “I grew accustomed to the gruff abruptness of Raphael, and forgot you are much warmer in person than most angels believe.”

“Other angels think I’m cold?” This was news to Gabriel. He knew his choir loved him, but he had never really considered how his other brothers thought of him. He didn’t really interact with them—and that was really the problem, wasn’t it?

“Very few angels have a reason to interact with an Archangel,” Barachiel explained patiently. “Even lower-level Seraphim rarely see their choirmaster directly. Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim have little chance. They know the Archangels from afar, see them in the distance as glowing pillars of strength, radiating God’s righteousness and power. What little they do glean from orders from their choirmaster, filtered through their Dominions or Seraphim, they use to extrapolate the smallest understanding of the oldest.”

“We put on a show,” Gabriel murmured, closing his eyes and casting his mind out over Heaven, feeling all his brothers going about their duties. “In front of the whole Host, we don’t dare show anything that could be construed as weakness.”

“Exactly.” Barachiel gestured between them. “This? You don’t show this side of you to _anyone_ outside your choir, except Michael and Sam—except just Michael now. You and Raphael can’t be in the same room without stinging each other. In front of my Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim, you puff up a bit—you’re their friend, but you’re also their leader. I imagine you do the same for any subordinates. Probably the only Angel who has seen you like _this_ is that little one of Raphael’s you fought for—Castiel?—and you hardly make time to visit him. Archangels are _power_ , Gabriel, not love. Not even really family. You four—three—always stood apart as something different. Something super-angel. The power disparity between me and one of my Dominions, or even me and one of my Cherubim is absolutely laughable in the face of the power disparity between you and me. We can’t… we can’t relate to you, just as we can’t relate to God our Father.”

Gabriel had no rebuttal. Barachiel had several good points. The grace and power of a Seraph was like a candle to the sun of an Archangel, which was why no one even considered suggesting one be promoted to replace Lucifer. When a Seraph fell, an intelligent Dominion could be promoted by an Archangel without too much difficulty, but only God could create the force of an Archangel.

He was also guilty of ignoring his younger brothers not in his own choir. Gabriel could count on both hands all the angels not in his choir he frequently interacted with—Filiel, before his death, then Naomi and Azazel. Joshua. Marmoniel with Raphael, and Castiel. Hester and Ion, the Angels he had traded to receive Castiel. He hadn’t even personally met every angel in his choir, now that he had taken in a third of Sammael’s angels. He tried, he really did, but between fighting a war and keeping Heaven running smoothly, Gabriel just didn’t have time.

“And you’re the _most_ connected with the rest of us,” Barachiel murmured, watching Gabriel’s contemplation. “In my stay in his tower, I learned that only a handful of Raphael’s angels speak with him on anything like a regular basis. Only Marmoniel is guaranteed the chance to speak with him. Everything else passes through her. Same with Michael. Sammael,” Barachiel hesitated after mentioning the fourth Archangel—none of the Host really knew how to deal with the loss of one of their leaders, not even the other Archangels—before soldiering on. “Sammael was more like you, he would speak with his angels, and the lower ranks could interact with him, request meetings and such, but even Sammael didn’t connect with his lower choir members the way you do.”

“Does Cariel do that?” Gabriel asked. “Control who sees me, like Marmoniel?” He looked over at Barachiel, needing to hear the truth.

Barachiel shrugged, the gesture horribly empty without his wings. “I haven’t spoken with Cariel in over a hundred years, so I don’t know if things have changed. He would stay on top of your schedule, and he would occasionally discourage angels from making appointments with you, but only if he suspected you sincerely would not like the appointment. He told me about doing that with Naomi several times. I don’t think he ever censored our choir members from meeting with you, but he did encourage the other Seraphim and Dominions to try to handle problems ourselves before taking them to you. At least, that was how he ran things before I…” Barachiel trailed off, glancing back forlornly at his lack of wings.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said, pushing off Barachiel’s desk to stand again. “Thank you for being honest with me, Barachiel. I don’t think anyone has explained how the Host sees the Archangels before.”

“Thank you for not firing me for it,” Barachiel replied with a little smile. “Raphael would not take any sort of backtalk from his angels. He actually did demote several Seraphim in the past few centuries, and replaced them with headstrong Dominions. Zachariah’s been promoted several ranks too, from what I’ve heard. He really loves Raphael’s choir.”

“Backtalk?” Gabriel pointed a finger at Barachiel. “If you ever _stop_ speaking your mind to me, we’re going to have problems! Healthy debate makes a healthy choir!”

Barachiel’s smile lit up the room, the first bright grin Gabriel had seen from him since the Nephilim sunk their stolen swords into his wings. This was Barachiel’s special talent, the ability to make everything so much more _alive_ just with his own happiness. “Oh, I have missed my choir!”

Gabriel laughed, pulling Barachiel in for another hug. The Seraph surged into this embrace with a bubbly energy much more like his former self. “We really have missed you too, Barach. Make sure you make the rounds, so the others get a chance to greet you too.”

“As soon as I get a handle on this, I will,” Barachiel promised, looking over his desk. “Who has been overseeing Earth in my absence?”

“Your Dominions did a fine job on their own, but Cariel stepped up when they needed a Seraph. Speaking of Cariel, do you know where he is?”

Barachiel shook his head, frowning a little. “No… he wasn’t in the tower when I returned. I assumed he was with you.”

“He’s been missing for an hour?” Gabriel’s good mood was evaporating. Cariel was never unavailable at the same time as Gabriel, unless they were together, and he knew Gabriel would be busy on Earth with the Nephilim. “That’s not like him. Do you know if someone might have called him away?”

Barachiel’s frown deepened as he searched his memories. “Er… Azazel was here, for a moment, when I returned, but Cariel wasn’t. Azazel was in your office, but he left quickly. I assumed it was because no one else was there. Otherwise, it’s only been your angels in the tower.”

“Azazel?” Unease was definitely bubbling up within Gabriel now. Azazel never meant good news. “Barachiel, I’m going to speak with Azazel. I want you to stay in the tower. You’re in charge until I return.”

“Me? Gabriel, I’ve only just returned myself!”

Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, stretching his wings. “Samandiriel, one of Cariel’s Dominions, should be returning with his garrison shortly. He’ll be able to help you with anything that happened in your absence. Right now, I need to find Cariel.”


	40. Finding the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cariel is missing, and Gabriel needs to figure out where his lieutenant has gone. Does Azazel have the answers?

### Finding the Truth

Gabriel folded his grace through Heaven and materialized in Azazel’s office, which was just outside Michael’s floors. Like most angelic offices, Azazel’s was spartan, with nothing more than the angel himself to indicate who owned it. Said angel was sitting behind his desk, reading a report. He looked up as Gabriel appeared, his usual faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Hello, Gabriel. I’m afraid Michael still isn’t taking visitors.”

“Good thing I’m here for you then.” Gabriel kept his wings relaxed and easy as he came around the desk to stand behind Azazel’s chair. The Seraph flexed his wings, lifting them slightly in a defensive move. He didn’t trust Gabriel at his back, but was trying to hide his discomfort. Instead, he pushed his chair back to turn and face the Archangel, but Gabriel clamped his hands down on Azazel’s shoulders, holding the younger angel in place. “I heard you came by my tower,” he commented lightly. “Were you looking for me?”

“I was simply wondering where you were,” Azazel answered, craning his neck back so he could watch the Archangel. “You are the only functional Archangel remaining. We can’t afford to lose track of you.”

“Did you get your question answered?”

“I did, yes,” Azazel answered. “You were on Earth, and clearly, your business there has been concluded.”

Gabriel leaned in, his mouth near the side of Azazel’s head. “ _Who answered you?_ ”

Barachiel had reported Azazel was alone. If Azazel had met one of Gabriel’s angels, the angel would have stayed until Azazel left first. That was fairly standard procedure among all the choirs. Either Azazel was lying, or he had been with-

“Cariel did. He’s always been very helpful.”

Bingo. Gabriel smiled back into Azazel’s face, his fingers tightening on his brother’s shoulders. “Well then, that means you were the last to see Cariel.”

“Have you lost track of your lieutenant?” Azazel did not betray any distress. His smile was helpfully concerned and nothing more.

“Cariel went missing before you left my tower. I have a witness reporting you alone in my office. Barachiel.”

“No, Cariel was certainly there when I left,” Azazel insisted, shaking his head slightly, his smile tinted with mild confusion but a desire to be helpful. “I'm afraid your angel must have it wrong. Barachiel?” Azazel shrugged, a graceful slide of his wings and shoulders under Gabriel's hands, his feathers rustling together gently. “He is a bit... different, you must admit. Ever since the Nephilim got their filthy hands on him-”

“They cut off his wings, not his brain!” Gabriel held Azazel in the chair, a low growl unintentionally rumbling in his chest. “If you think for a moment that I would sooner trust you than him-”

“Gabriel, please,” Azazel twisted as much as Gabriel allowed to look back at the Archangel. “It's my word against Barachiel's, and Barachiel is injured and only freshly returned to your choir, whereas I am the second to Michael himself. You weren't around to be a witness. No one else would put Barachiel's word above mine without proof, and you don't have any. Because there isn't any.” Azazel turned forward again, his hands relaxed on his desk, that ever-present smile smug in Gabriel's eyes. “I _don't know_ where Cariel is. I'm sorry. If I did, I would tell you.”

“Right.” Gabriel forced himself to release Azazel's shoulders, taking a step back. “Right. You're right.” His hand slipped to his side, curling around the hilt of his sword. “I don't know what I was thinking...”

“You care deeply for your second,” Azazel said. “That much is obvious. And it's admirable. Your love for our brothers makes you the gentlest of the Archangels.” The Seraph turned now to look back at Gabriel, and Gabriel took that as his cue to drive his sword forward, one smooth thrust shoving the blade deep into Azazel's head, between those smirking gold eyes.

“Don’t think for a moment that loving my brothers makes me a fool,” Gabriel hissed, leaning in close to Azazel. His brother gaped up at him, shock finally erasing his smile.

Gabriel’s attack was not a fatal one. Head wounds generally weren’t to angels. Heads in general weren’t exceptionally important. Necks, now, necks were a different story. An angel’s core, their equivalent of hearts and brains combined, resided at the base of their throat. A blow there could kill an angel. Anything else was extraneous. Several angels had even survived decapitation during the war, when the blow was high enough to miss their cores.

Damage to an angel’s head wasn’t even difficult to heal. Azazel was certainly strong enough for his grace to mend the damage as soon as Gabriel’s sword was out, and while it was in, it was effectively acting as a plug to keep Azazel from bleeding out too much grace and spirit before he could heal.

The sword in Azazel’s head served a different purpose. During the war, the Host had discovered (quite by accident) that angelic silver inside an angel’s head effectively cut them off from the Host. They could still sense their brothers and be felt as alive, but they could not communicate on any of the mental frequencies connecting the Host: caste, choir, or all. By impaling Azazel’s head, Gabriel was able to keep the Seraph from calling for help or warning his allies.

“You’re going to tell me where Cariel is,” Gabriel purred, running two fingers down the exposed length of his sword until he could press them against Azazel’s forehead, “but I don’t want to hear it in your voice. I want to read it in your mind.” Before Azazel could protest, Gabriel shoved himself inside his brother’s mind.

It was the height of rudeness to poke around in another angel’s mind without their express permission, but angels still set up mental walls and defenses just in case. Some angels, like Balthazar, simply didn’t care about good manners if they could get something out of it. Most mental barriers could withstand an attack from the average angel of the Host. Only a handful of angels in Naomi and Alastair’s garrisons could actually slip past mental walls without wholesale destruction to the attacked angel’s mind.

Gabriel was not one of those angels. His method of uninvited mind-reading involved slamming a battering ram into the shining walls behind Azazel’s eyes, shattering his defenses into a thousand pieces and ripping them out at the root. Just like with the dragon, Gabriel was aiming for complete control and not finesse, or even keeping his brother’s mind intact.

Azazel tried to fight back, but his capabilities were severely limited by the silver in his head. Gabriel brushed off the fluttering of the Seraph’s mind, yanking his memories forward and flipping through them. Azazel _did_ meet with Cariel in Gabriel’s tower, and Cariel had tried to dismiss his brother. Alastair had appeared behind Gabriel’s second, jamming a silver spike into the back of his head, and the two struggled as Azazel watched. Eventually, Azazel sighed and flicked his hand at the pair, sending a wave of grace to hit Cariel and immobilize him. As Cariel slumped in Alastair’s arms, Azazel met the younger Seraph’s gaze. “ _Take him away. Be quick about it. Gabriel won’t be gone forever._ ”

Alastair and Cariel left first, folding through Heaven. Azazel swept up the papers Cariel had been holding, about to set them on the desk, but then he shrugged and tossed them gently back to the floor before spreading his wings and taking flight himself.

Alastair had Cariel. Alastair, the angel of re-education. Alastair the interrogator. Alastair the torturer.

Angels tried not to refer to Alastair with the t-word. Angels were _good_. They didn’t _torture_. They… persuaded. Firmly. And permanently. Gabriel saw no reason to gloss over the truth with Alastair. The young Seraph had a knack for getting other angels to do exactly what he pleased, or to think exactly what he told them. He had been useful in the beginning, when the angels were still trying to figure out who they were. Gabriel suspected Castiel had been sent to him several times while Raphael had been his choirmaster. Gabriel himself had never sent an angel to Alastair. He didn’t believe there was anything inherently wrong with any of his choir. They were as their Father made them, flaws and all. Even Balthazar.

More recently, Alastair (and Naomi) had been tasked with scouring the Host for any angel who had created a Nephilim. As it was difficult to determine when a night of pleasure had just been a night of pleasure and when it had been something more, Michael had decreed that any angel who had lain with a living human woman was to be executed. The Host had agreed. Better to remove all of the infection than risk sparing some just because healthy members might also be cut away. Gabriel thoroughly agreed with this, confident that none of _his_ angels had been involved. The Nephilim had been enough of a nightmare for his choir that none wanted to see it repeated.

Gabriel had been wrong. He had lost several dozen angels to the interrogators, mainly low-ranking Angels and Cherubim who were frequently stationed on Earth. Raphael and Michael had actually lost more than him, and about sixty of Sammael’s former angels were executed for treason as well. Cariel had been above suspicion. Gabriel had vouched for Cariel’s innocence himself, confident that even if, somehow, Cariel had desired a human woman, the Seraph had kept himself far too busy in Heaven or at Gabriel’s side to actually act on such desire. He had not gone before Alastair, and Gabriel had intended to keep it that way.

“Why,” Gabriel asked slowly, dragging his focus out of Azazel’s memories to look into the angel’s golden eyes, “did you have Alastair take Cariel?”

Azazel didn’t answer. Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure he _could_ answer, as his eyes were unfocused and vacant, reflecting the damage Gabriel had inflicted on his mind.

“Hmph.” Gabriel pursed his lips and shrugged, shoving back into Azazel’s mind. He had to delve deeper for his answer, flipping through months and years of Azazel’s life.

Every new memory uncovered heaped more evidence on Gabriel’s theory that this Seraph, the most powerful in all of Heaven, was actually a traitor. Azazel _did_ check in with Michael, but never for instructions, and the Archangel had been too distracted by his own grief to give more than a wave of approval in his second’s direction. Gabriel hated seeing his broken oldest brother through Azazel’s eyes, each memory tainted with scorn and hatred for what Michael had done to Lucifer.

Skipping past those, Gabriel followed a trail of deception through Azazel’s mind. Lucifer’s top Seraphim, now scattered through the three remaining choirs, had all reported to the golden-eyed angel. Alastair had been his right-wing angel, and together, they subtly plotted to sabotage Heaven’s works. Raphael’s garrisons were fed false information about enemies. Michael’s choirs were thoroughly tied up with red tape and extraneous reports. Gabriel’s choirs were constantly battling minor natural disasters on Earth, overextended and distracted. Lucifer’s angels had been trained to turn their hands to anything, and they did it well.

Azazel had been frequently frustrated by Cariel. Gabriel had to allow himself a swell of pride at the stubbornness of his own second as he rebuffed Azazel’s attempts to infiltrate Gabriel’s choir. Cariel had kept Azazel’s Lucifer loyalists low and underpowered in the hierarchy of the choir, and he had made no secret about keeping an eye on Azazel himself.

_“We need him gone.” Azazel stood at the window of his office, his hands locked together behind his back, golden eyes fixed on the icy tower to the south, his **true** home. “Anyone would be better in his place.”_

_“He’s Gabriel’s lover.” Alastair lounged in a chair, rocking it back onto two legs as he watched his older brother. “And our Lucifer taught Gabriel to reject bullshit. We can’t lure him away on false pretenses.”_

_“Then make them true.” Azazel flexed his powerful wings, stretching his grace. “You’re good at that.”_

_“You think Gabriel will buy it?”_

_“Of course not. Even if it were genuinely true, he’d throw a tantrum.”_

_Alastair sighed, dropping his chair back onto all four legs. “I don’t want to be the one to tell him Cariel’s been fucking around with humans.”_

_“We’ll tell him only after Cariel’s gone.”_

_“And how are we supposed to do that?”_

_“The Nephilim are providing a suitable distraction.” Azazel smiled thinly, his gaze going unfocused as he turned his attention to Earth. “I have him forbidden from killing any of them until they are all gathered. ‘Michael’s’ orders, of course.” Alastair chuckled at Michael’s name. “Their execution should take some time. Enough time to steal Cariel away from his tower. By the time he returns…”_

_Alastair grinned, drawing his silver spike. “It’ll be all over.”_

_“Do it properly, in case there are inquiries. Interrogate him. Make sure he actually **has** incriminating memories.”_

_“I know what to do, Azazel. This isn’t the first time we’ve framed someone.”_

_“Then see it done.”_

Gabriel pulled out of Azazel’s mind, his grace wrapped tight and agitated around him. “You… you _traitor_!” Gabriel knew every language in the world, but none had a word strong enough to describe the revulsion he felt for this angel. Lucifer had tried to bring absolute free will to Heaven. He wanted his brothers to have a choice, to be independent and free from God. He had gone about it all wrong, but Gabriel could understand his logic and sympathize with him even as he stood against him.

Azazel didn’t care about free will or giving his brothers a choice. He wanted Lucifer to rule Heaven undisputed, and death to anyone who stood in Lucifer’s way. There was no logic behind his desires, no good will, just death and pain. Gabriel stepped away from Azazel, drawing his sword out of his brother’s head. “You don’t understand him at all…”

Azazel slumped forward, pieces of his spirit dripping from the hole in his forehead even as his grace rushed in to staunch the flow. Gabriel turned away for a moment, pressing one hand against his mouth to pull himself together. _Cariel._ Alastair still had Cariel, and Gabriel was running out of time. He couldn’t stay to punish Azazel. Not now.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Gabriel turned back to Azazel, throwing his grace at his brother. Two ribbons of pure Archangel power wrapped around the Seraph’s arms, tying him to his chair. It would take more focus than Azazel was capable of right now to pull free. The physical damage might already be healing, but Gabriel’s rampage through Azazel’s mind could not be so easily mended.

Without sparing Azazel another glance, Gabriel spread his wings and flew.


	41. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds Cariel in Alistair’s hands, but did he come in time to save his lieutenant?

### Interrogation

All angels instinctually knew how to veil their grace. It wasn’t easy or pleasant, much like wearing a jacket too tight in the shoulders, but they could all do it. Cherubim had the easiest time, with the least amount of grace of any angel, but even an Archangel could pull their massive grace around them tight enough to hide almost completely from their brothers’ perception. Their sheer power could still shine through a vessel, or catch in the corner of a brother’s eye, but it was much easier for them to go unnoticed while veiled. Veiling was necessary on Earth, useful in the Borderlands, and almost never done in Heaven.

Gabriel veiled himself now as he flew toward the nearly-abandoned southern tower of Heaven. After Lucifer turned his back on Heaven and his choir was reassigned, his angels left their icy offices for the towers of their new choirmasters. Only Alastair’s garrisons remained, because only Alastair’s garrisons required special workplaces.

There were no elements in Heaven to ravage the architecture, and even time was largely powerless in the celestial realm, but the tower of ice had suffered anyway. Without an Archangel’s radiance constantly filling its walls, the ice had cracked and settled, collapsing in on itself. The top ten floors had crumbled away completely, and the whole tower leaned six degrees to the side. Alastair alone might be enough to keep it from falling completely, but without a choir, the tower was dying.

Near the center of the tower was a large expanse of smooth walls. No windows or doors marred the shining ice. There was no direct way in (and more importantly, no direct way out) of Alastair’s floor.

Gabriel knew the secret to entering Alastair’s workrooms. His brother had shown him, thousands of years ago, when he was still Sammael and Gabriel was still his favorite. From the thirty-second floor, Gabriel slipped through a thin door and flew up, straight up, through another eighty floors. From there, he squeezed himself along a narrow tunnel and dropped down a shaft to the fifty-ninth floor. A door in front of him opened onto a staircase with a low ceiling to keep him from flying. The stairs gave him entrance to the sixtieth floor, the one Alastair called home.

The sixtieth floor of Sammael’s tower was a maze of misshapen rooms all furnished identically with white chairs, engraved straps, and shining steel workbenches. Half of the walls were mirror-bright, reflecting the light of an angel’s grace, while the other half were clear glass, angled together in such ways as to disperse grace into distracting rainbows. No two rooms were shaped the same, making it all too easy to lose track of your position in the tower. Alastair’s floor was as dangerous as it was beautiful, a labyrinth designed to confuse even the Archangels. Sammael had shown Gabriel how to access it, but not how to maneuver through it.

Gabriel closed his eyes and double-checked to make sure he was absolutely veiled. His grace wasn’t bright enough to reflect through these walls and warn Alastair of his impending arrival, though he had to be careful so as not to be noticed by the angels immediately around him. He needed to find Alastair before Cariel could be declared a traitor and executed for false memories of lying with a human woman.

Unlike Gabriel, Alastair was not attempting to hide. The light of his grace bounced through the glass walls, reflecting off the mirrors and filling the entire floor with his presence. His angels were here as well, studiously working on extracting memories from those angels suspected to have created the Nephilim.

How many were innocent?

Gabriel could not, in good conscience, leave his brothers here to be tortured. If they were guilty, they would be executed, but if Alastair was framing innocent angels…

The Archangel set his wings back and strode toward the nearest Angel bent over a chair. “ _Sleep_ ,” he murmured, pressing two hidden fingers against the Angel's forehead. The Angel collapsed over the Cherub he was questioning. Gabriel hauled him off and dropped him to the floor, leaving only a thread of grace behind to keep the Angel from waking prematurely. The Cherub struggled against his bonds, a silver spike in his head keeping him from crying to the Host for help, but his terror was obvious in his bound grace.

Gabriel didn't stop to explain. He kept moving through Alastair's floor, knocking out every one of the rogue Seraph's angels with his own grace. He didn't free any of the captives—if they were guilty, he didn't want to give them a chance to run—but he didn't allow any of Alastair's angels to escape either.

Gabriel heard Cariel before he found him, the Seraph's furious rant a beacon for the Archangel to follow. Cariel was shouting at Alastair, every word echoing off the polished walls. 

“…asinine twit! Do you actually think you'll get away with this?”

Alastair's response was too quiet for Gabriel to hear through the rooms, but Gabriel didn't care. Cariel was talking, which meant he was alive. Gabriel wasn't too late. He moved faster, drawn toward the sound of his lieutenant, sending out a wave of grace to pull all of Alastair's angels into a deep sleep as he flew through the rooms.

“It doesn't matter what happened to me, moron! You stole me from him. That's enough to incite Gabriel's wrath. I'm _invaluable_ to him. You kill me, and you're dead. Eventually. If you're lucky.”

Gabriel pressed his hand against the next door, feeling Alastair's grace thick and heavy on the other side. Smothered by the younger angel's presence, he could just make out Cariel's grace, tightly restrained. Carefully, Gabriel eased the door open.

Alastair's back was to Gabriel. He stood at his workbench, fingers lovingly caressing over a variety of sharp and spiky tools. To his left, Cariel was strapped in to the white chair, a silver spike thrust entirely through his head. Crimson lines of pain stretched through his grace, focused on that injury, but the Seraph was pushing past the hurt to struggle against his bonds, his face contorted in rage as he continued to rant at his younger brother.

“Gabriel won't believe you for an instant. He knows I'm innocent. He knows-”

Cariel cut off, distracted by the open door. For the briefest second, Gabriel saw a flicker of genuine fear spark within his second's grace, deep in Cariel's core.

Gabriel was veiled even from Cariel like this, but he winked at his Seraph anyway before stepping up to Alastair and releasing his veil all at once. His grace slammed out, spreading to fill the room, relieved to be freed from the constricting hold. Alastair spun around quickly, a sword materializing in his hand, but Gabriel moved faster, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the workbench. “Hi!” he chirped, a manic grin on his face. “I think you have something of mine!” His wings stretched wide, wrapping around Alastair, confining him against his workbench.

Cariel laughed. He sagged back against the chair, twisting his head to the side to watch as Gabriel slammed Alastair's wrist again, making the interrogator drop his sword.

“I'm acting on Michael's orders!” Alastair insisted, trying to shrink away from the Archangel. “You can't punish me for obeying him!”

“Not for obeying _Michael_.” Gabriel closed his other hand around Alastair's throat, lifting the younger angel off the ground and squeezing hard. Fire burned through his grace, a golden glow that suffused his spirit with heat and power. “But the drooling mess that used to be Azazel says otherwise.”

Alastair clawed at Gabriel's hand, choking as Gabriel's fingers alone cut into his brother's grace, sinking in toward his spirit. Gabriel had never killed an angel before. Not directly. Alastair would be his first.

Alastair couldn't be his first. Gabriel stopped, still holding the Seraph in the air by his throat but no longer squeezing tighter. Alastair had hurt Cariel, had hurt God only knew how many others of their brothers. Alastair had been acting as a double-agent for Lucifer ever since the Archangel's fall. By all means, Alastair deserved to be executed for a whole list of crimes against Heaven… but Gabriel couldn't be that executioner. Alastair was his _brother_. His family. 

“Today's your lucky day,” Gabriel growled, spinning around and throwing Alastair. The Seraph's wings flailed, but he couldn't check his flight in time to avoid crashing into a mirror and sliding to the ground, wincing from the impact. Gabriel stalked toward the Seraph, drawing his own sword as he approached. The silver felt familiar in his flame-wreathed hand, warm and comforting. “I'm not going to kill you.”

“My apologies, Archangel,” Alastair’s voice was slippery-smooth, and he was forcing an oily smile on his face, trying to worm his way beneath Gabriel’s grace. He held empty palms toward the Archangel, his posture open and disarming. “I think we may have had a little misunderstanding...”

“I don't think so.” Gabriel pressed the tip of his sword against Alastair's exposed spirit. His grace was trying to close the gashes left by Gabriel's fingers, but holes were always slow to mend. Gabriel's sword easily slipped through the gap and pricked his brother where he was the most vulnerable. “Azazel sent you to frame Cariel and have him executed for treason. Is there some subtlety here that is escaping my understanding?”

“I did not realize-”

“You did not realize that you were implanting false memories into the lieutenant of an Archangel? It somehow slipped your comprehension that this wasn't kosher?”

“If I could just-”

“You are so very lucky that I'm saving my first fratricide for when Raphael seriously pisses me off.” Gabriel dragged his sword up Alastair's face and touched it to his forehead. “You sleep now.” He shoved the blade in as he shoved his grace against Alastair, blasting consciousness away from him.

“I knew you'd come.”

Cariel was still watching from the chair, his dark eyes fixed on Gabriel. “I knew you wouldn't let them get away with this.”

“Liar.” Gabriel left his sword where it was, turning his back on Alastair in favor of attending to Cariel. He smoothed his hand over his second's cheek before curling his fingers around the spike and pulling it carefully out of Cariel's head. The Seraph grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, but he sagged back in relief once the spike was out. Already, his grace was flowing in to heal. “You were scared.”

“Was not,” Cariel insisted.

“I saw it,” Gabriel said, rubbing his thumb over the hole in Cariel's head, pushing enough of his grace in to start the healing of his second’s spirit before reaching for the straps that bound him to the table. “You didn't think I'd actually rescue you.”

Cariel sighed. “I didn't know if you'd come in _time_ ,” he admitted, cracking one eye open to peer up at the Archangel. “But I knew you'd make Alastair pay for this. I'm just glad I get to watch.”

“I didn't know if I would either,” Gabriel admitted, unbuckling the last strap. He couldn't just rip them free—the Enochian sigils carved into the leather protected against even Archangelic strength. “I couldn't feel your grace. I was afraid I was too late.” He pushed the straps aside and reached out to help Cariel sit up. Cariel curled his fingers around Gabriel’s arms, leaning forward to press his injured head against Gabriel. Gabriel blanketed Cariel in his wings. “I was afraid I lost you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek to the top of Cariel’s head.

Cariel tucked himself against Gabriel’s chest, drawing his legs up and folding his wings tight against his back. Gabriel held his Seraph close, indulging in a rare moment of comfort for both of them.

“What now?” Cariel asked quietly, eventually relaxing his grip on Gabriel, his fingers stroking lightly over the older angel’s spirit. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel reluctantly answered. “I’d say go to Michael, but he’s still a mess. And Raphael might not be understanding enough.”

“What happened to Azazel?” Cariel lifted his head to look at Gabriel, his composure reforming around him even quicker than his grace.

“I… ripped his mind apart.” Gabriel tried to look at least a little contrite, even though he still felt Azazel fully deserved worse than what Gabriel had given him. “He wouldn’t tell me where you were, so I took that knowledge from him.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Cariel teased, drawing away from Gabriel and pushing himself back to his feet with only a small wobble. “Right. We need to deal with Alastair.” He looked over at the unconscious angel crumpled on the floor. Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck ruefully.

“Er… I may have been a bit enthusiastic in my run here.”

“Good enthusiastic or bad enthusiastic?”

“Half the angels on this floor are… asleep.” Gabriel gave a light tug on his grace, feeling out the strands he had left with every brother he had knocked out. They were all still unconscious, crumpled where they fell, their captives still bound to their chairs and terrified. “I didn’t want Alastair calling for backup. He and Azazel are the top of a ring of corruption.”

“I figured as much when they took _me_.” Cariel flapped his wings, stretching them out. “I’ve done nothing against the orders of Heaven, despite Alastair attempting to convince me I had bedded Sorcha, your vessel.” He fell silent, looking away from Gabriel, apparently distracted by his reflection in one of Alastair’s mirror walls.

 _Alastair called you my lover,_ Gabriel thought, watching the Seraph. Alastair had stolen Cariel’s memory of a stolen kiss from him, and Gabriel’s less-than-upset reaction to it. It made sense that he had shared it with Azazel and that the Seraphim had extrapolated more of a relationship there than there was. But Cariel had never spoken of his feelings again, and Gabriel hadn’t wanted to bring it up first. It felt inappropriate to even _think_ about initiating a relationship with his lieutenant.

Gabriel sighed, rising to his own feet and crossing the room to Alastair. “We should take all of these angels into custody until we can sort out the innocent from the corrupt. Do you think Naomi has fallen prey to Lucifer’s temptations?”

Cariel shook his head slowly. “Naomi is selfish, but she genuinely does wish to see the Host succeed. Lucifer’s… this sort of corruption would rub her feathers the wrong way. If she knew about it, it would absolutely sicken her.”

“Good.” Gabriel picked up Alastair and heaved his brother over his shoulder. “We need one interrogator still on our side.”


	42. Raphael's Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel may be the only Archangel active in Heaven right now, but he’s not the only Archangel IN Heaven right now. And he didn’t tell the others what he was up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a sucky day, guys, which means you get an extra update today. Enjoy it for me. :)

### Raphael’s Belief

As soon as Gabriel spread his wings in the open air just outside the crumbling southern tower, the Seraph Marmoniel materialized in front of him. Her pale eyes slid over Cariel (still showing signs of his head wound, though the hole was now more of an indentation) and then Alastair’s unconscious form thrown over Gabriel’s shoulder, before settling on the Archangel. To her credit, the expression on her face didn’t waver. She inclined her head slightly to Gabriel. “Raphael requests your presence.”

“Requests?” Gabriel asked, exchanging a glance with Cariel.

Marmoniel smiled thinly at the pair. “If you choose not to answer his request, he will demand.”

“Figured as much.” Gabriel shoved Alastair at Marmoniel before dragging his sword out of Alastair’s head. “Alastair’s angels are suspected traitors. Please assign a garrison or two to going through his floor and containing them. They’re unconscious at the moment. I’m holding them all under. Do the same for the angels being interrogated today. Until we have a chance to investigate properly, I want them all contained separately. Can you do that?”

Raphael’s second did not have to answer to Gabriel, but since Gabriel was the most functional Archangel, Marmoniel had taken to deferring to his judgment lately. She hesitated a moment before giving a nod. “I shall begin immediately, Archangel. You will go to Raphael?” Her fingers smoothed over the hole in Alastair’s head, the healer in her automatically tending to the gash in his spirit.

“Immediately,” Gabriel assured her. “Cariel, please return to my tower and relieve Barachiel, if you feel up to resuming your duties.”

“Barachiel’s back?” Cariel brightened a little at the name of his brother. “His wings?”

“He’s still healing, but Raphael did deign to let him return to us today,” Gabriel answered with a grin. “I left him in charge, maybe a bit unfairly. I’ll return soon, depending on what Raphael needs me for.”

“Yes sir.” Cariel gave Marmoniel a nod before flying northwest, toward Gabriel’s tower.

Marmoniel’s eyes were glazed over, distant. She was communicating with her choir, summoning angels to attend to the arrest of Alastair’s angels. Gabriel touched his grace to hers to feel for any trace of deceit. Finding none, he spread his own wings and flew.

Raphael was sitting at the peak of his tower, a widespread plume resembling a cloud in the sky, from which his tower descended like a whirling tornado frozen in place. He had his eyes closed, leaning against a decorative curl, lightning arcing through the glass floor from where his wingtips brushed against it.

Gabriel landed carefully, folding his wings in and keeping them held high so as not to drag them over Raphael’s sparks. Raphael’s electricity wasn’t strong enough to do anything more than tingle against Gabriel’s spirit, but Gabriel would be cautious anyway. His twin was still fragile, with most of his energy dedicated to rebuilding the hole Lucifer had ripped through his chest. Gabriel’s own grace still pulsed within the Archangel of the Air, keeping him alive. “I’ve uncovered some traitors within Heaven. I’ve set Marmoniel to the task of cleaning them up. My apologies for stealing your second, but she was the only one at hand.”

“She already told me.” Raphael didn’t bother looking at his brother. “Where have you been? We tried calling for you. Samandiriel said you left Earth hours ago.”

“I was in Sammael’s tower,” Gabriel answered. “Alastair’s floor.” The level was strongly warded to keep angels from folding themselves in and out. Gabriel hadn’t realized it muffled communication too. Had it been Lucifer’s first attempt at keeping God out? A practice run for his underground realm? “Alastair kidnapped Cariel and was attempting to find him guilty of treason.”

Now Raphael cracked his eyes open, looking up at Gabriel. Only when the other Archangel was seated could Gabriel tower over him. “Big accusations from a little angel.”

Gabriel bristled, his feathers ruffling, but he didn’t rise to Raphael’s bait. Much. He folded his arms, canting his head to the side. “I have proof. Alastair and Azazel have been following Lucifer this entire time. They’ve been disrupting Heaven, trying to avenge him.”

“Azazel?” Gabriel had Raphael’s full attention now. The injured Archangel straightened up, frowning at his brother. “Michael found Azazel mentally massacred in his office. We were worried there was something dangerous in our midst.”

“So you sat out here in the open?” Gabriel looked around the tower with a frown of his own. The sky was empty, but Raphael was still vulnerable sitting alone and injured. “There is no threat—I was the one who attacked Azazel—but still. Stupid much?”

Raphael flicked his hand at Gabriel, buffeting the smaller angel with a gust of wind. The breeze, small even by Raphael’s weakened standards, was still enough to rock Gabriel. “There is no angel who can ambush me by air. I was searching for the culprit, spreading my grace through Heaven. Why did you attack Azazel?”

“He took Cariel.”

“It really is that simple for you,” Raphael remarked with a shake of his head. “Only you, Gabriel, would wreck everything for a subordinate. Even Michael’s second.”

“He’s not a subordinate!”

“But he is. Useful, yes, but ultimately replaceable.”

“As if you wouldn’t go after Marmoniel if she were in danger!”

“I wouldn’t tear half of Heaven upside-down for her, no.” Raphael pushed himself to his feet slowly, wincing a little and pressing one hand over his chest as he moved. “I would attempt to recover her, but if a reasonable show of strength and intelligence wasn’t enough…” He shrugged. “We are not _individuals_ , Gabriel. We are the Host. All of us move as one for the Glory of God. We don’t move for a lesser brother. We don’t even move for a greater brother.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Raphael silenced him with one lifted hand. “What did you do to pull Sammael back to us? Not nearly enough. None of us did. He malfunctioned, and we removed him. That is how the Host needs to work. None of this,” Raphael fluttered a wing in Gabriel’s direction, “ _passion_.”

“Only you can make passion a dirty word.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Raphael. “Is that what you honestly think? If it doesn’t directly help the greater good, it shouldn’t be done?”

“I don’t think we need to get emotionally involved. Logic. Wasn’t that your pet idea? Think _logically_ , Gabriel. You destroyed Azazel’s mind and handicapped an entire garrison, all for one angel. Was it really worth it?”

“I rescued Cariel from attempted murder and uncovered a cabal of traitors!”

“You left a trail of destruction in your wake and spread panic throughout the Host by not informing us of your actions beforehand.” Raphael sighed, rubbing two fingers against his temple. “I’m not saying you did _bad_. I’m just saying there were better ways of handling the situation.”

“There wasn’t time!”

“There’s always time.” Raphael gestured at his injured chest. “This, Gabriel, this is a direct result of my abandoning logic to react with passion, without thought. Michael’s current grief is very much the same—too much passion and emotion resulted in too much loss when things didn’t go the way he wanted. He’s broken now because he cared too much.” Raphael stepped closer to Gabriel, resting his hand lightly on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I worry about you, Gabriel. You’re following too closely in Lucifer’s footsteps.”

Gabriel drew back from Raphael, pointedly pulling his shoulder away from his brother’s touch. “You cannot honestly be comparing me with Lucifer because I refused to let my innocent lieutenant be _executed_.”

“We lost him because he became enraged by perceived injustice. _You_ become enraged by perceived injustice.”

“It wasn’t perceived! It was _real_!”

“Cariel is one of the Host! He is replaceable! We are _all_ replaceable!”

Gabriel backed up further, shaking his head. “None of us are replaceable. The Host suffers for every loss it incurs. Even the smallest Cherub enriches the Host simply by existing.” Raphael stayed where he was, looking solemnly at Gabriel, his arms loose at his sides.

“You truly are Lucifer’s disciple.”

Gabriel wanted to run from his brother. His wings stretched wide for flight, but where would he go? Once upon a time, Sammael would have offered Gabriel shelter from his twin’s accusations, tucking soft wings around his little brother and whispering teasing observations about their brothers until he had Gabriel laughing again. Sammael was gone now.

In the past, Gabriel could have run to Michael when he was upset. Michael would have sat beside Gabriel and listened, a gentleness to his grace that slowly leeched into Gabriel’s own and calmed him down. Michael was broken now, drowning in his own grief and unable to soothe another.

Gabriel might have even run to God if he were desperate enough, slipping into the Garden and letting his Father’s love crowd out his anger. It was unlikely that his Father would actually be present these days. Even if God _were_ in the Garden, he would be accompanied by the Cherub Metatron, and Gabriel wanted nothing to do with the little silver-winged angel.

Cariel was the only other brother Gabriel regularly sought comfort from. Cariel’s utter devotion to Gabriel and his choir never failed to help Gabriel find his own center, relaxing in the Seraph’s presence like he did with no one else. But Cariel was still injured, still weak and shaken from his ordeal. Gabriel couldn’t ask Cariel to calm him over mere words from Raphael, not now.

Gabriel’s wings shivered as he refolded them against his back, tight and compact. He narrowed his eyes at his twin, forcing himself to rise above the words. “I didn’t come here to take your abuse, Raphael. You summoned me here. Why?”

“Azazel was attacked.” Raphael was just as calm as if he hadn’t accused Gabriel of following the fallen Archangel. His head was canted slightly to the side, eyes bright as he watched his brother.

“Yes. I already told you I did that.”

“And we did not have that information when I sent for you.” Raphael’s wings fluttered in a tiny shrug. “Now we do. I have no need for you, but you should go to Michael and explain yourself to him. It was his second you ripped open, after all. He’ll need a new lieutenant.”

Gabriel couldn’t even feel guilty for effectively ending the life of another of Michael’s seconds. No other Archangel had lost as many as the oldest had, but Gabriel felt that Filiel had been the only decent one. Michael had loved and trusted the oldest Seraph in a way he hadn’t done with any of the rest. The loss of Filiel still echoed through his entire choir. Azazel had been a poor replacement and entirely Gabriel’s fault.

“I haven’t seen Michael in years,” Gabriel admitted, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Is he… how is he?”

“He’s empty.” Raphael touched his fingers lightly over his core. “Here. It’s… unnerving. He moves as if he has no time to waste. He looks through you now, and shows nothing of himself.” The Healer turned his head, his dark gaze seeking out the northern tower before sliding away. “I feel like we are losing him too, and I am powerless to pull him back from the abyss within him.”

Gabriel looked up at his brother, curling his fingers around his own arms, hugging himself. “I haven’t seen Michael in years,” he repeated. “I’ll go speak to him now. Maybe… maybe I can help?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to hurt him worse.” The Healer never had been big on tact. “Go. Try to pull him back.”

Gabriel nodded firmly and turned away, stepping up to the edge of Raphael’s tower.

“Gabriel.”

Raphael called his name just as Gabriel spread his wings, about to take flight. The smaller Archangel twisted to look over his shoulder, his brother framed by the span of feathers. Raphael met his gaze.

“Thank you.”


	43. Damaged Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Gabriel goes to visit Michael for the first time in years, his oldest brother is not what Gabriel remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we're up to this many chapters already? Still have twenty-one to go, if you count the Interludes!

### Damaged Michael

Unease grew within Gabriel as he flew toward Michael’s tower. His wings sliced through the air over the empty fields of Heaven, their heavy wingbeats the only sound he heard.

Heaven was quiet and empty. Gabriel checked his flight abruptly, twisting around in midair for an entire view of Heaven. Nothing. Even the industrious Cherubim who kept the whole place glistening were hiding from sight.

_Did I do this?_

Michael’s second had been attacked in Michael’s tower. Had that been disturbing enough to completely shut down Heaven? Gabriel stretched out his grace, feeling for his brothers. They were still _in_ Heaven, but inside the towers or on the walls. A few were in the Garden. The Axis Mundi was completely deserted, and only Gabriel was in the air.

The Archangel shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. Heaven was supposed to be a warm and busy place, full of songs and wings. He had never seen it so completely deserted. It was unnatural. Unnerving. He expanded his grace even further, folding himself through Heaven instead of flying through the deserted airspace.

Gabriel rematerialized in the Crown, the observation deck just as abandoned as the rest of Heaven. He frowned as he hurried down into Michael’s tower proper, drawing his wings in tight.

There _were_ angels inside the tower, pulling themselves out of Gabriel’s way as he passed, all falling silent the moment they felt the Archangel’s presence. A few Angels even veiled themselves completely, hiding from their older brother.

Gabriel recognized the silver wings of Metatron among a group of Cherubim who blatantly stared after him with huge eyes, the guilty tinge to their grace a sure giveaway that they had just been gossiping about him. For once, the Scribe wasn’t chasing after their Father, begging for scraps of His attention like a dog to his master.

Gabriel seized Metatron by the joint of his wing, dragging him out of the huddle of his brothers. “Where’s Michael?” he demanded, trying to ignore how every other angel in the hall was edging away from him. They were _scared_. Of _him_.

Metatron pointed, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s face. “Two more floors down, Archangel Gabriel. He’s in Azazel’s office, Sir. Please don’t smite me!”

“Tch!” Gabriel pushed Metatron away. The Cherub shrank back among his brothers. “Have you been serving Lucifer?” He barely waited for Metatron’s hurried negative before continuing. “Then you have nothing to fear from me.” The angels remained frozen in place as Gabriel turned away, and he scowled at them all. “Get back to work!”

As the angels scattered with a flurry of wings, Gabriel stalked down the hall, his wings twitching in agitation. He knew where Azazel’s office. Azazel was still _in_ Azazel’s office.

Michael was also in Azazel’s office, seated across from the immobile Seraph. His great wings were held loosely open, filling the room. His elbows were propped on the Seraph’s desk, hands clasped together, chin lightly resting on his fingers as he stared evenly at his lieutenant. His grace didn’t even twitch to recognize Gabriel’s presence as the smaller Archangel entered the room.

Gabriel circled around, coming behind Azazel and trying not to step on the angel’s limp wings. The Seraph’s head lolled to the side, his eyes and grace just as vacant as when Gabriel left him. Azazel’s mind was torn to shreds, and he didn’t even have the strength to twitch a wing. Prodding Azazel with a finger gave Gabriel no reaction from either of the other angels. Azazel was not a threat. Gabriel looked beyond the younger angel to Michael.

Michael was watching Gabriel.

At some point, the older angel had shifted the focus of his attention without even a twitch of his grace to alert Gabriel. That shouldn’t have been possible. Gabriel gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature, staring back into Michael’s eyes.

The oldest Archangel _had_ changed, just as Raphael had said. Where before, Michael radiated an untouchable strength and control to his younger brothers, now his eyes were full of darkness. Despair and hopelessness floated over the surface of his inner spirit, shifting and cracking like the crust of molten lava, melting back into the depths of Michael’s core only to be replaced with new misery. A cold fury seeped through around the edges, rage against the situation they were trapped in.

Gabriel wished fear was not part of an Archangel’s vocabulary. Unfortunately, in his experience, Archangels were the _most_ fearful of the angels. At least, he was. All their younger brothers looked up to them for guidance and direction, and they acted in the confidence that a superior brother had told them what to do. The Archangels looked to God, but God wasn’t big on giving direction. Gabriel felt like he was completely making the rules up as he went along and _wished_ he had half the confidence shown by his older brothers.

Gabriel had an intimate knowledge of Michael that no other angel in Heaven shared. He understood his oldest brother more than any other living being, bar God Himself. Right now, he had no idea how to handle this situation so as not to set off an Archangelic explosion.

Michael seemed content to watch Gabriel, his eerie eyes never wavering. His grace was rock solid around him, with none of the usual ebb and flow most angels showed, a natural rhythm perhaps like breathing, or a heartbeat. Michael _looked_ dead, as much as a living angel could. Gabriel twisted his wings and clasped his hands together in an attempt not to fidget. “Er… hello, Michael. It’s been a while.”

There was no immediate response from Michael, no indication that he had even heard Gabriel’s words. Gabriel shifted from one foot to the other and twitched his wings again. He dropped his hands to his sides, then clasped them together again. Only after he looked away from his motionless brother, glancing down at Azazel again, did Michael actually speak.

“It has.”

He didn’t move his mouth when he spoke. Gabriel had looked back as soon as he heard the first sound. Angels didn’t _have_ to, of course, but most angels did anyway, as a sort of practice. It helped them when they had their vessels. Other angels could understand them perfectly, but humans seemed to have more difficulty interpreting the nuances of angelic speech. Michael always used to speak with his mouth while in Heaven.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words had always worked before. Whenever Michael was in one of his cold furies, whenever he was so still and blank at Gabriel in the past, all it took was an apology to break his anger and reel him back from the edge. Lucifer had never apologized to Michael. Gabriel didn’t know if Raphael ever did. Gabriel tried to always apologize when he had done something wrong.

It didn’t work this time. Michael remained still. His grace didn’t even whisper. Gabriel shifted again and freed one hand to Azazel. “For, uh… this. I did it. I ripped Azazel’s mind open. I mean, I’m not sorry that I _did_ it, I’m just sorry that it hurt you too. I needed to do it. I would do it again, if given the chance to do things over.”

“I know.” Michael’s gaze flickered. One moment it was focused on Gabriel, the next, it was on Azazel. There was no transition, no slide of his eyes. It was almost as if Michael had folded himself through Heaven solely to change who he was looking at, but his grace hadn’t given the tell-tale signs of an angel dematerializing or rematerializing.

Michael was _powerful_. It was easy to forget just how strong the oldest Archangel was when he was calm and friendly. Gabriel had never felt threated by Michael, never believed Michael was capable of hurting him. But Michael was nearly twice as strong as Gabriel, half again as strong as Lucifer had been. Michael was the most powerful creation of God’s in the entire _universe_. Of course he could do things Gabriel believed were impossible. 

Up until now, he had simply been too polite to show off.

Gabriel’s hands dropped back to his sides, and he tucked his wings in, deliberately making himself smaller in Michael’s presence. If Michael got it in his head that Gabriel needed to die for attacking his second, then Gabriel was dead. He couldn’t outfly Michael, and he certainly couldn’t outfight his brother. All he could do was fall on Michael’s mercy, if any remained. Maybe, _maybe_ , if he could get to Raphael…

“Hang on… you _knew_? You knew I did this?” Gabriel looked at Azazel again, then back to Michael. Raphael hadn’t known. “Why didn’t you tell Raphael? He thought Heaven was under attack! The whole realm is shut down! Your angels are _cowering_ in the tower!”

“His mind was already hanging open. I’ve searched his memories myself. I know what you did. I know _why_ you did it. Raphael would have made a scene. At the very least, he would have demanded he be here.” Michael flickered again, now looking at Gabriel with his arms folded on the desk, sitting up straight. There was no in-between, no arms lowering. He was resting his chin on his hands and then he wasn’t. “I wanted to interrogate you alone.”

Gabriel took a step back from Michael when the older angel flickered, his arms curling around himself protectively. “Interrogate? But you already know…”

“This, yes.” Flicker, hand gesturing to Azazel, flicker, back to his resting position. “But you gave him to me, all those years ago.”

Gabriel remembered that day, holding Michael’s broken spirit against his as Raphael tried to piece him back together. It had been the first day he had ever realized that Michael was not invincible, that even he could be claimed by Death. “I didn’t…” Gabriel ducked his head, genuine remorse swimming up in his grace now. “I didn’t know his loyalty wouldn’t be changed. I didn’t know he would betray us, betray _you_. I _am_ sorry for that, Michael.”

Michael said nothing, frozen on his side of the desk. Gabriel hated the silence. He stepped forward, coming around the desk in three quick strides and dropping to one knee by Michael’s side. “See for yourself,” he said, taking one of Michael’s hands in both of his. Michael allowed Gabriel to move him, pressing Michael’s hand to his forehead. “Look into my mind, Michael. I didn’t even suspect treachery back then.”

Flicker, and sudden squeezing pressure on Gabriel’s shoulder. Michael’s free hand was gripping him tight now, keeping him from fleeing. Two fingers pressed through Gabriel’s grace, and Gabriel forced his mind open to his brother’s intrusion.

Michael flooded Gabriel’s mind with his presence, hard and sharp, forcing Gabriel’s consciousness to the edges of his own head. He rummaged carelessly through Gabriel’s memories, digging back through them, forcing Gabriel to recall every mention of Azazel’s name. Most of the time, he was in Cariel’s presence. He was reliving Gabriel’s growing suspicion of the golden-eyed angel in reverse.

When he hit that fateful day, Michael stopped. He examined that memory from every angle, looking out from Gabriel’s eyes. He was experiencing everything Gabriel had felt, thinking every thought Gabriel had held.

Some of the sharpness in Gabriel’s mind softened, and Gabriel felt a feather-light brush of the glow he had always associated with his brother in the past, a gentle kiss of reassurance from Michael to his Little One. Tension slid out of Gabriel in a great wave, his wings sagging in relief. _His_ Michael was still inside this broken Archangel, somewhere. He wasn’t gone, wasn’t killed by his own actions; he was just hiding. Resting. Trying to heal.

But then Michael was off again, digging deeper into Gabriel’s memories, pulling up and discarding every moment with Cariel. Did Michael think _Cariel_ was somehow a traitor? Gabriel tried to catch Michael’s mind and pull him back, but he didn’t dare use enough force to actually stop his brother. They were both inside Gabriel’s mind. If they fought here, even if they just resisted slightly, Michael could rip through Gabriel’s mind and leave him as vegetative as Azazel.

Michael stopped in the ocean, frozen in a memory of Cariel’s lips pressed against Gabriel’s own, frozen in that fraction of a second when Gabriel had _liked_ it.

Gabriel wished he could hide in his own mind. He wished God would smite him down right here and now. Michael was examining the memory with a detached curiosity, rewinding it and playing it back over and over again: Cariel’s disappointment, Gabriel’s consolation, and Cariel’s kiss.

 _Yes, he kissed me!_ Gabriel shouted in his head. _He kissed me once, centuries ago, and Alastair stole his memory of it. Can we **please** let it go?_

Suddenly, Gabriel was all alone in his mind. He blinked and looked up at Michael, who was already looking back at Azazel, hands clasped on the desk again.

“He said you were lovers.”

“He was wrong. I love Cariel, yes, but I’ve never lain with him, or even let him know he kissed me.” Gabriel shook his head, stiffly getting back to his feet and sitting on the edge of the desk. “It wouldn’t be appropriate. He is my lieutenant.”

“That is correct. See that you don’t.”

Gabriel looked up sharply at Michael, but Michael was still watching Azazel. Had Michael really just forbidden him from bedding Cariel? Surely he had no right to give that order! What Gabriel did in his own vessels was his own business, so long as he didn’t hurt anyone else. If he wanted to sleep with Cariel, he could. And he did. Now that it had finally been expressly forbidden, Gabriel wanted to pull Cariel to Earth and see if a second kiss would be as electrifying as the first. He frowned, folding his arms and looking away from Michael. Now was not a good time to be tempted into disobedience. That was the path to Lucifer.

“Fine. I won’t sleep with Cariel.” The words felt heavy as he spoke them. That was as good as giving his word. If Gabriel told Michael he wouldn’t do something, he wouldn’t do something. It would have been different if he were talking to Raphael, but he wasn’t. With Michael, he couldn’t take back his words. “What are we going to do about Azazel and his traitors?” Gabriel asked, trying to change the subject. “Execution?”

“We won’t kill them.”

Gabriel swung his head around to stare at Michael. “We won’t?” Surely they couldn’t leave a bunch of treasonous brothers _alive_!

“Azazel wanted to punish the ‘traitors’ Alastair was turning up far more harshly than we were. He thought execution was too good for them.” Michael flickered, standing up now, his hands planted firmly on the desk as he leaned toward his former second. “He wanted their wings torn from their backs and their grace ripped out at the root. He wanted their defenseless spirits flung to Earth, where they would be reborn as human souls, to live stunted, mortal lives, and then to die and be judged.”

“That seems unnecessarily cruel,” Gabriel murmured, staring at his usually-just brother. The loss of one’s wings was an angel’s greatest fear, even more than death. Barachiel had managed to endure (despite Marmoniel offering a merciful killing), but even centuries after his injury, he was still unable to fly on his own, pitied and avoided by most of the Host. Just _clipping_ Cariel and Naomi’s wings after their massacre of a human village had been considered an unduly harsh punishment, even though Cariel himself had suggested it. Removing the wings of the traitors would have been viewed as punishment enough to the Host. Removing the angels’ grace grew to an entirely new level of nightmare.

During the war, a small handful of Angels and Cherubim had chosen to rip out their own grace instead of take up swords against their brothers. Those angels had plummeted from the Host, falling to Earth to be reborn as humans, complete with functional souls. They had very little recollection of Heaven, aside from a sense of a greater Father when they were very young. They lived perfectly ordinary human lives, married perfectly ordinary humans, had perfectly ordinary, fully-human children, and died in perfectly ordinary human ways, largely from old age. If they lived good lives, their souls carved out niches in the human part of Heaven, and they existed there without returning to their angelic origins. The only indication that these reborn angels were anything but fully human was how they could withstand the true voice and form of an angel without pain, even though none of them were suitable for angelic vessels.

“Unnecessarily cruel?” Michael asked, his voice booming through the office like boulders rolling down a mountainside. “This _traitor_ is directly responsible for the deaths of countless innocent brothers. He tried to kill Cariel. He and his followers sought to destroy Heaven, to cave it down around our wings. They betrayed us, their brothers, their choirmates, their _Archangels_. They ravaged Earth and they sought to ravish Heaven. You think they deserve _any_ mercy?”

Gabriel looked at Azazel, sitting limply in his chair. _He_ deserved the harshest punishment, but the others? They were just following orders.

The wrong orders. Gabriel had just argued this point with Barachiel earlier today. Obedience could only be rewarded if the obedient ones obeyed the right masters. Azazel’s traitors didn’t. They deserved the same punishment he would receive.

“Just… do it quickly,” Gabriel said, standing up slowly. “Don’t torture them.”

“I am no monster,” Michael flickered again, suddenly on the other side of the desk, his fingers pressed to Azazel’s forehead. “My justice will be swift.”


	44. Hello, War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azazel’s angels have been wiped out of Heaven, but Gabriel’s been sent to deliver some powerful rings.

### Hello, War

Years passed, as years tended to do. Michael moved swiftly, flashing through Heaven with a list of names ripped from Azazel and Alastair's minds. The identified traitors had been cast down to Earth, their separated grace flung deep into the ocean where no human could reach. There was no way any of the fallen angels could recover their grace and return to Heaven. Wingless and without memories, all of the fallen angels were born to perfectly ordinary humans throughout the world. Gabriel tapped one of his garrisons to keep an eye on them, just in case, but his precautions seemed unnecessary. After five years, none of the fallen had even the slightest recollection of Heaven. Gabriel eventually reassigned his garrison to more pressing matters.

Heaven itself was recovering. Michael was giving his own orders again, but he still hadn’t appointed a new second. He frightened all the younger angels constantly, having apparently given up on unnecessary in-between movements altogether. Raphael was back to leading his choir as well. Gabriel returned to his own choir, though he still gave his brothers a hand when they needed one, as Sammael once had. Right now, he was helping Raphael repopulate the Borderlands with substance, weaving the stuff of Heaven and Earth together to patch over the gaping Void.

“Over, under, over, under,” Raphael called, as Gabriel dipped and rose, dragging solid fill behind him.

“I know how to weave,” Gabriel shot back, twisting around the warp threads they had laid earlier. It wasn’t like they were creating any sort of complex pattern. They just needed to close the nothingness so their younger brothers could pass through this part of the Borderlands without fear of death.

“Then move faster.” Raphael flew along the woven section, sealing the gaps between warp and weft. “At the speed you’re moving, you must forgive me for assuming you need to think about each step.”

Gabriel growled at Raphael and pointedly slowed down his flight even further, just to irritate his brother. There was no rush to their work, other than the desire to get it done so they didn’t have to worry about it any longer. Heaven was at peace. Earth was running smoothly. The Borderlands were quiet. None of the Archangels had any pressing urgencies they needed to deal with.

_Gabriel._

Tightness in Gabriel’s head accompanied his name, and Gabriel stopped where he was, hovering as he pressed his hands against his temples, trying to equalize the pressure. _Coming!_ he answered back, and the weight immediately lifted.

“Gabriel?” Raphael had his head cocked to the side, lightly massaging his chest with two fingers where Lucifer had punched open a hole. This was where Gabriel’s grace was still strongest in him, and it was very likely resonating with the presence of God.

“Dad’s calling,” Gabriel explained, tossing his filler to Raphael. “I have to run. If you can’t finish this on your own, knot it up. I’ll come back later.”

Before Raphael could respond, Gabriel spread his wings and shot toward Heaven as fast as he could. When Father summoned, He was not to be kept waiting. Gabriel burst through the eastern quadrant and shot straight toward the Garden, eschewing the Axis Mundi for a shortcut through Raphael’s fields. He always flew through Heaven physically when summoned by God, even though he could reach Him faster by folding his grace through the realm. His brothers’ spirits were lifted when they saw visible proof of God’s presence in their lives. The golden-winged Messenger flying through Heaven was one of the most obvious tells.

The Garden was a garden today, and Metatron was sitting by a little brook, his ever-present tablet and pen in his hands. Gabriel ruffled his golden wings in annoyance at his little brother. God was never without Metatron these days. Gabriel hadn’t been alone with his Father since the war.

Metatron didn’t seem to notice Gabriel’s irritation. Instead, he just beamed up at his older brother, his silver wings spreading open in greeting. “Hello, Gabriel! It’s been awhile!” His fear of Gabriel the last time they met had apparently evaporated. Gabriel wouldn't be surprised if the irritating Cherub hadn't genuinely forgotten. He seemed the sort to have the attention span of a gnat.

“Father summoned me,” Gabriel informed Metatron, lifting his chin slightly. Was Metatron ever summoned by God, or did he just sit here and wait for their Father to decide to bother with him?

“Oh, yes, probably about the lock!”

“Lock?” Gabriel hadn’t heard anything about a lock, and he immediately hated himself for revealing his ignorance to the Cherub.

Metatron’s smile grew wider, and he flipped through his notes. “Yes, yes, Father’s been working on a lock for Lucifer’s cage. He says that someday, Lucifer will be freed, but the cage might be needed again. After the seals are broken, there needs to be a way to close it again. See, here, I wrote a bit about it.” 

Gabriel glanced at the paper Metatron hopefully offered up at him. The sigils scrawled across the paper were unfamiliar to him, as strange and alien as Lucifer’s warding had been. Gabriel recognized Lucifer’s name and nothing else. A nudge of fear pulled at Gabriel’s heart, and he purposely turned away from the Cherub. “I would hear it from Father Himself.”

Metatron was writing in a script unknown to Gabriel, the Messenger, who knew all languages, all that once existed, all that existed now, all that would one day exist. Lucifer had done the same. How could there possibly be languages that Gabriel did not know? He could speak with the Kraken under the sea, and the wraiths that swam through the Borderlands. Gabriel could roar with the dragons and whisper with the wind, but he could not read the words his brother had written.

_You should not spurn your brother so._

“Father!” Gabriel turned instantly to the presence of the Lord, dropping to his knees and shielding his head with his wings. Beside him, Metatron did the same, tucking his silver wings around him. At least Metatron still knew how to show respect to their Father. “I was summoned by You, for Your orders.”

It _was_ true, but it wasn’t the whole truth, and Gabriel knew his Father knew it. He closed his eyes, his wings tense under his Father’s scrutiny. Surely Father understood that he couldn’t show weakness to a _Cherub_ , of all angels!

This was exactly what Barachiel had been talking about, Gabriel realized. The Archangels were perfect and unrelatable because they did not allow the younger angels to relate to them. Gabriel cringed at the thought, but he felt his Father’s focus lighten.

_I have items for you to deliver, Messenger. Metatron._

The Cherub nodded, hastily pushing himself to his feet and reaching into the brook. Gabriel lifted a wing to watch Metatron fumble among the smooth stones, curious despite himself.

Metatron pulled three rings from the brook, offering them to Gabriel with both hands. Gabriel slowly straightened up, accepting the rings from Metatron.

One ring was pure gold, perfectly round and unblemished, yet angry to the touch. The second was silver, engraved with curling designs and set with a black stone that tugged at something within Gabriel, making him feel empty inside. The third ring, also silver, was already tarnished around its green stone. Gabriel could make out the shape of wings on the sides, and his own wings felt heavy, a dull ache infusing his spirit.

“These are… powerful,” Gabriel muttered, pressing his free hand against his forehead. Had the Garden gotten colder, or was it just him? “What…” Words. Words were hard. Why were they hard? “What are…?”

Metatron plunged his hands back in the brook, rubbing them together fiercely under the slow-moving water. God reached forward to touch both angels. As soon as His presence brushed Gabriel, the effects of the rings lifted.

_These are the keys to the cage that holds Lucifer. Breaking the seals we set can free your brother, but renders the cage useless. These four rings can reclose it._

“These… four?” Gabriel looked at the three rings in his hand, and he could feel his Father’s amusement as he recounted them.

_I have already delivered the first Myself. Death does not take pleasure in interacting with lesser beings._

Gabriel would have bristled with offense at being called lesser if God had named any creature other than Death. That thing gave him the creeps. It existed Outside. The angels weren’t exactly sure what Outside was, but they believed Outside was where God had originated (because surely even He had to have a beginning). Death could come into their universe, but Death was not a creature of their universe. Death was older than Michael and saw even him as tiny and insignificant. Gabriel had seen Death a couple times, but they had never spoken directly. Gabriel preferred it that way. If Death had one fourth of the key to Lucifer’s cage, it wouldn’t open anytime soon.

“Where should I deliver the other three?”

_You’ll know them when you find them._

“Helpful,” Gabriel drawled, rolling the smooth gold ring between his fingers before tucking them all into his spirit for safekeeping. “Not even a hint, Father?”

_They are on Earth._

“That’s it?”

God vanished instead of answering.

Metatron lowered his wings and picked up his pen again. “He does that a lot. I wish He didn’t.”

“He’s Father,” Gabriel said, defending God even though he was also irritated at his Father’s refusal to ever give a straight answer. “He can do whatever He wants.”

“Yes, but would it kill Him to say good-bye?”

Gabriel gave Metatron a dry look before spreading his wings and flashing out of existence without a good-bye of his own. It was rude, yes, but the little Cherub was irritating. It all evened out in the end.

“On Earth” could mean anywhere, so Gabriel first stopped in to a Celtic village in the north to pick up his vessel. Suros, the man he had worn during the final showdown between Michael and Lucifer, was old now. He sucked on his teeth as Gabriel spoke to him, finally agreeing to allow the angel in if it meant his knees would stop aching. Gabriel slipped into the elderly man easily. The man’s body was already stretched out and broken in. Nothing pinched or squeezed Gabriel’s spirit here.

Gabriel honestly had no idea who he was looking for. He slipped the three rings into a pouch Suros wore, rolling them in his fingers. They gave no indication of which direction their masters might be in. The Archangel shrugged and spread his wings, heading south. Just about everything was south of Suros’ village.

In Rome, Gabriel accepted some lemons from a vendor and nibbled on the sour fruit as he wandered the garden of the Theatre of Pompey. He had blessed the merchant in exchange for the food, and then immediately wiped the man’s mind of their transaction. It was better not to be remembered. The man would have a string of exceptional good luck this week, and would certainly make enough extra money to cover the loss of this fruit.

Gabriel loved to eat. Sweet foods were his favorites, but he loved everything that had a strong taste of any kind. Lemons made his mouth seize involuntarily, and it was such a _human_ reaction that he couldn’t help but revel in it. He popped another segment of lemon into his mouth and sucked the juice out of the fruit before swallowing the remains.

“Try this, grandfather.” A Roman, younger than Suros, offered Gabriel a honey cake. The angel smiled at the man, sucking the last of the lemon juice from his fingers before accepting the treat.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting it to his face to sniff the cake. Smells were another wonderful thing about humanity. Angels didn’t have a sense of smell. They could understand odors existed, but unless they made an effort, they remained oblivious to them. Angels had other senses tied to their grace that made smelling unnecessary. In his human vessel, Gabriel relished the smells that added a new layer of color to the world.

“Are you going to the sport today?” the Roman asked, nibbling his own honey cake. “Decius Brutus has provided gladiators for our entertainment.”

“That was nice of him,” Gabriel commented, finally tasting the treat and grinning at the sticky sweet honey on his tongue. He could easily understand the thrill of the gladiatorial combat that the Romans favored. There was something pure and basic about a fight that little else could compare to. “Perhaps I will. I’m looking for someone. Several someones.”

“Several someones will probably be at the theatre!” the Roman laughed. “I hear Caesar himself might show. He is at the Senate today.”

Gaius Julius Caesar was a name all of the Earth-focused angels knew. The man was the dictator of the Roman Republic, one of the most powerful human civilizations on the planet. He was immensely popular among the citizens of the Republic, except for the already high-powered aristocracy.

He was also, Gabriel realized, approaching the theatre. Gabriel’s companion was staring hungrily at the dictator, his honey cake fully devoured. Gabriel nibbled another piece off of his, looking between the dictator and the Roman beside him. This wasn’t ordinary hero worship shining in the man’s eyes. This was _anticipation_.

A group of Romans were approaching Caesar, waylaying him before he could enter the Theatre. One was trying to push a petition into his hands. Others crowded around the pair, cutting off escape. Caesar was waving away the petition, but the petitioner abandoned it to grab at Caesar’s clothes. Another man behind the dictator drew a knife. Caesar turned to grab his arm, and suddenly all the men around him were pulling knives from their togas.

Gabriel snapped his fingers. Time stopped.

“That was uncalled for!”

The Roman standing beside Gabriel was glaring at him now, an ugly scowl on his face. “Do you realize what’s about to happen here!? That took ages to set up!”

Gabriel blinked at the man and snapped his fingers again. The man still didn’t freeze. He folded his arms instead. “I take it you’re not human.”

“Apparently, neither are you,” Gabriel answered. An ordinary human would have been locked in place with the rest of time. Even proximity to Gabriel wouldn’t have spared this man from having his life paused. “What _are_ you?” The man didn’t feel unusual, but he certainly wasn’t an angel.

“I’m that,” the man answered, nodding toward the scene on the steps of the Theatre. “I’m conflict. I’m hostility. I’m aggression.”

“Ah.” Gabriel cocked his head to the side, then licked the fingers of his right hand free of honey and slipped them into Suros’ pouch. “I am the Messenger of Heaven.” One of the rings felt warm to Gabriel’s touch. He pulled out the plain gold ring. “I believe this is yours.”

The Roman held out his hand, accepting the ring from Gabriel. He held it up to the sun, squinting at the unblemished circle, then slipped it on his finger. A wicked smile curved across his face as he held up his hand. “Oh _yes_ ,” the man declared. “I’m _War_.”

“War?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow, looking the man over. One could argue, he supposed, that War was an entirely human concept. The angels didn’t war until after humanity had been created, and it had been humanity that triggered Lucifer’s displeasure with Heaven. It made sense for War to appear as a perfectly ordinary human. “Okay then. Nice to meet you. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find others like you?”

“I’ve got three siblings,” War said with a smirk. “Try places in trouble. Places without food. Places without health. Places of death.”

“Death already has his ring,” Gabriel said quickly, “but thanks. That’s… actually more helpful than my Father was.”

“You can let that go to repay me,” War answered, gesturing to the assassination attempt. “Took me _ages_ to get that right!”

“Caesar is a very important man,” Gabriel argued. “If he dies like this-”

“Then the Republic falls into a series of bloody civil wars as everyone tries to fill the power vacuum,” War answered. “It will be glorious.”

Interfering with human politics was generally frowned upon by the angels, but human politics had already been interfered in if War had actually been pulling strings. Gabriel sighed and rolled his neck, shaking out his arms. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Time was fluid. Humans didn’t realize it. They couldn’t see it. Humans were dragged along in Time’s current, moving from point A to point B without any effort, without any chance of returning to point A. Angels were not bound by such arbitrary rules. Angels could swim through time in any direction, though it took more effort to go against the current. In general, they let themselves be pulled along in the flow of Time, but at any point, they could fly into the past, or slip sideways into alternate timelines. Some of the stronger angels, the first-class Seraphim and the Archangels, could fast-forward Time and see into the future.

Gabriel stepped sideways, shifting into a timeline where Caesar wasn’t assassinated here, where War did not interfere in his life. He raced ahead, getting flashes and glimpses of a future that could be. Caesar’s survival did not remove the threat of war from Rome. The Republic pushed into the East, as Caesar fought against Parthia, but unrest was brewing at home. Even without War’s direct influence, Caesar’s “friends” in the Senate wanted him dead. With Caesar away and unavailable, accidental deaths from mysterious circumstances started happening to a lot of his close family and friends. When a young man named Octavian “fell” to his death, Gabriel stopped and hopped sideways again, back to a timeline where Caesar had died. Octavian survived in this timeline, succeeding Caesar and claiming the title of Emperor for himself. The Roman Republic transitioned into the Roman Empire under Octavian’s firm hand, and Gabriel had to admit he was impressed by what he saw. _Pax Romana_ , they called it. If for no other reason than Octavian’s life, Gabriel would stand back as Caesar was assassinated.

Releasing his concentration, Gabriel let Time fling him back to where he had been when this all began, standing beside War outside the Theatre of Pompey. War was waiting, his arms folded, thumb rubbing against the new ring he had been given.

“You zoned out,” he remarked.

Gabriel offered War a thin smile. “I peeked ahead. You may have Caesar and the civil wars. I won’t stop it.”

War grinned, and Gabriel snapped his fingers. Time flowed back around the world, dragging people along with it. Caesar was stabbed, over and over again, but Gabriel was gone.


	45. Gabriel's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel met Death long before God tasked him to find the Horsemen and give them their rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourth of the Interlude chapters, little flashbacks to when the Archangels were kids. In this chapter, Michael and Sammael are roughly equivalent to older teenagers to early twenties, while Raphael and Gabriel are closer to 5 or 6. Chronologically, this is the fifth Interlude.

### Gabriel’s Interlude

“No, _you_ gotta be the Leviathan, cause this was my idea!”

“I don’t want to be the Leviathan! You should be the Leviathan, and I’ll be Michael!”

“I wanna be Michael!” Gabriel flapped his wings at his twin, balling his hands into fists. He and Raphael were on the newest planet their Father had created, a yellowish thing wrapped in heavy clouds and raining hot acids. Michael and Sammael had left them there while they were checking on something, but Raphael was being horribly difficult and not playing nice with any of Gabriel’s ideas.

Raphael flapped his wings right back at Gabriel. “ _I’m_ Michael!”

Gabriel groaned and spun in a circle in frustration. “FINE! You can be Sammael, and I’ll be Michael, and we’ll pretend the Leviathan!”

Raphael crossed his arms in front of him, his eyes narrowed. “ _You_ be Sammael. I’m Michael.”

“This was _my_ idea!”

“Get back!”

The real Michael was flying at Gabriel and Raphael as fast as he could, his wings a blur. He tackled his youngest brothers, sweeping them behind him and holding them in place with his great wings. Gabriel shoved feathers out of his eyes and tried to look around his brother, but Michael refused to budge. “Miiiiiiiichael!” he whined, tugging at the oldest angel’s wing, all games forgotten.

“Shh!” Sammael came up behind the twins, much gentler as he pulled Michael’s wings out of their faces. He tapped them between the eyes and shook his head at them. “ _He’s_ coming. We must be reverent and respectful and _stay out of his way_.”

Raphael nodded his understanding and obedience, his dark eyes solemn, but that wasn’t enough for Gabriel. “Who’s coming?” the littlest angel demanded, flapping his own wings to try to lift himself around the barrier Michael was making with his own body. “Sammael, _who_? Is it Father? Is Father coming? Why do we have to be reverent and respectful? We love Father! He loves us! That’s just silly!”

“Shh!” Sammael swept his own wings forward, wrapping Gabriel from top to bottom in soft feathers, muffling his voice. “Gabriel, for Father’s sake, _please_ stay quiet!”

“But-” Gabriel squirmed his hands up above Sammael’s wings to push them down, and Sammael clamped his grace around the angel, silencing Gabriel completely. Gabriel crossed his arms angrily and turned away from Sammael, peering out around Michael again.

_My sons._

God was in front of the angels now, towering above the four. To his right stood a dark shadow holding a curved metal weapon. Michael and Sammael ducked into deep bows, spreading their wings wide. “Father,” they chorused. Between them, Raphael did the same, his little wings trembling as he tried to stretch them as big as he could. Gabriel looked at all three of his brothers, then up at God and the other being with him before Sammael tweaked his wing, hard. Gabriel jumped and hastily bowed in half, spreading his own wings. He was still mute from Sammael’s grace wrapped tightly around him.

_Michael, Sammael, Raphael, and Gabriel._

They were being introduced to the other being. Gabriel peeked up between his wings, looking at the second being. He was as big as Father, but darker, an absence of Life instead of a source.

Michael straightened first, shoving the twins behind him again with two pushes of his wings. Sammael remained behind them both, his hands on their shoulders, wings wrapping forward. His older brothers were defensive, Gabriel realized. Not openly hostile, but they were sheltering him and Raphael. Michael’s wings were held back, and Sammael’s swept-forward wings touched them lightly. The twins were completely surrounded by the oldest angels.

There was danger here.

Danger was still new. They’d felt it before—Raphael got burned when he tried to swim in a star like Gabriel did, and Gabriel once broke a wing when he got caught up in one of Raphael’s storms—but they’d never had it approach them. Danger had always been something stationary, a place Michael and Sammael would warn the twins away from. Danger had never come to them in the form of a tall, thin anti-Father.

_Death._

Death. That was the name of this being with the vast, _old_ eyes, deep eyes that slid over Gabriel without pause. Death ignored the twins in favor of studying Sammael. Sammael straightened under Death’s gaze, lifting his head and staring back defiantly. A flicker of something—amusement?—swept through Death before he moved on, turning his attention to Michael. Unlike Sammael, Michael ducked his head slightly in deference to Death’s apparently greater status. He stretched his wings back further even as he did so, wrapping Sammael in them as well and drawing him close. Gabriel was squished between his brothers, barely able to see anything through the feathers in his face.

“What a charming family.”

The voice scratched nails down Gabriel’s back, ruffled his feathers the wrong way, but still managed to echo with power like Father’s did. Beside him, Raphael whimpered. Unlike with Father’s, Death’s voice made Gabriel turn away, cringing against Sammael. Raphael pushed forward against Michael’s back. Sammael stooped low to scoop Gabriel up without letting his gaze waver from Death. Gabriel curled into Sammael’s shoulder and pulled his brother’s grace around him as a comforting blanket.

_I am pleased with them._

“You would be.”

Gabriel got the distinct sense that Death’s words weren’t meant as a compliment, and he pressed himself even closer to Sammael, using his own wings to hold his brother. Sammael shifted forward, trapping Gabriel between Michael and himself, with Raphael pressed between them below. His wings wrapped around both of the twins, and Michael’s wings covered Sammael, and the four were are close as angels could possibly be without mixing their grace together.

_Let Me show you the star._

God and Death were gone as suddenly as they arrived, and Michael and Sammael sagged with the sudden release of tension. Sammael tugged his grace away from Gabriel so the littlest angel could speak again, but Gabriel didn’t let go of his brother. On the ground, Raphael’s pudgy arms were wrapped around one of Michael’s smaller wings, his eyes absolutely massive in his face. “What was that?”

“That was one of Father’s… acquaintances,” Michael explained slowly, turning to his brothers. He carefully untangled Raphael’s arms and picked him up, balancing him easily against his side. Raphael curled a wing around the back of Michael’s neck for balance.

“Why was he here?” Sammael asked Michael, his voice quiet as if that would keep Raphael and Gabriel from hearing. “He’s not…?”

“Father mentioned a star.” Michael smoothed his hand along the side of Raphael’s face and tucked him against his throat. His hold was protective, trying to shelter Raphael in his arms. Sammael’s wings were still heavily wrapped around Gabriel, keeping most of his body covered. “Perhaps that requires Death to reap.”

Sammael closed his eyes, spreading out his grace in a wide net. Gabriel closed his eyes as well, touching his grace to Sammael’s so he could feel how his brother explored the universe without moving. Sammael caught his grace and guided it, teaching by demonstration. When he opened his eyes again, he pressed his forehead to Gabriel’s, making the little angel giggle. “Father’s far from here. I think we’re safe.”

“We still need to be careful,” Michael warned. “They can both be wherever they want to be whenever.”

“Then we’ll stay with these two until he’s gone again.” Sammael swooped Gabriel in the air and spun him around. Gabriel flung out his arms and fluttered his wings, laughing as he “flew” without effort. “What were you two up to before we so rudely interrupted?”

“We were playing Archangels and Leviathans!” Gabriel told Sammael.

“I was going to be Michael,” Raphael said before Gabriel could claim the oldest Archangel as his own role. Raphael was looking adoringly at the angel who held him.

Michael exchanged a look with Sammael before touching a flattered thread of his grace to Raphael. “And who were you going to be, Gabriel? The Leviathans?”

 _I was gonna be Michael,_ Gabriel thought bitterly, but he didn’t say that. Sammael was holding him, and he did love Sammael just as much as he loved Michael. “I’m Sammael!” he chirped, forcing happiness into his grace. He didn’t want Sammael to think that he didn’t want to be Sammael! It was just that Michael was the biggest, and Gabriel didn’t like being the little one all the time.

“Well then, you need some Leviathans!” Sammael tossed Gabriel into the air, making the little angel fly on his own as he curled his fingers into claws and stomped after him. “ _Rawr_! I’m going to eat you!”

“Stay back!” Gabriel scooped up rocks from the ground, swooping around Sammael to chuck them at his brother. “You stay away from my brother! Michael!”

Michael startled a little, but he stayed put and released Raphael so the other Archangel could rush to Gabriel’s aid. After a moment, he started stalking toward the twins as well, not quite as enthusiastic as Sammael but still able to roar convincingly enough to make Gabriel scared for just a second. “You can’t fight off both of us!”

Gabriel shrieked as Michael snatched him out of the air, thrashing his wings as hard as he could. Sammael pounced on him, his fingers finding all the weaknesses in Gabriel’s grace and making him shriek with helpless laughter as he tickled the younger angel. “Roar! I’m eating you all up!”

“Leave Sammael alone!” Raphael jumped onto the real Sammael’s back, hammering his tiny fists against Sammael’s shoulders. 

Sammael cried out in mock-pain and fell back. “Ah! Oh no! I’m being killed!” He pinned Raphael beneath him and grinned as the smaller angel tried to wiggle free. “At least I’m taking you down with me!”

Gabriel wrenched free from Michael to attack him, slashing with his wings the way his brothers had taught him. “Take that, Leviathan!”

“Noooo!” Michael staggered back under Gabriel’s onslaught, falling to the ground and letting Gabriel land on top of him, shaking his fists triumphantly. “Argh, you got me!”

Gabriel cheered, but then he saw Raphael was still stuck under Sammael. “Michael! I’m coming!”

As Gabriel tried to pull his big brother off Raphael (and Sammael made things as difficult as possible by staying limp and not moving), Michael propped himself up on his arms to watch. Eventually, Gabriel managed to lift Sammael’s shoulders, and Raphael squirmed free.

“Victory!”

“We win!”

Gabriel jumped around, cheering his excitement at the victory over the evil Leviathan, while Raphael wiped an imaginary sword clean and sheathed it. “Congratulations, Sammael. You fought well.”

“I saved your life!”

“I had it handled.”

“You did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

As the twins shouted at each other, Sammael rolled over and crawled to Michael’s side. He nestled against the older Archangel’s shoulder, his arm looping around Michael’s back. “You okay?”

Michael gave a nod, tilting his head to the side to rest it against Sammael’s. Gabriel looked over to see them cuddling and abandoned his fight with Raphael to fly to them, snuggling between his older brothers. Michael chuckled and smoothed down Gabriel’s feathers, while Sammael beckoned for Raphael to join them. The four angels wrapped their wings around each other, safe in their brothers’ embraces. Death might be somewhere in the universe, but on this yellow planet, everything was good.


	46. Hello, Lilith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After delivering his rings of power, Gabriel takes a detour through the woods and meets a big bad witch…

### Hello, Lilith

War’s brothers, Pestilence and Famine, had been easy to find once Gabriel knew what he was looking for. Stopping time whenever he came across a scene of great trouble made it so easy it felt like cheating. Both anthropomorphic personifications were as happy to receive their rings as War had been, though Famine had made Gabriel’s apple rot in his hand. If Gabriel hadn’t been on official Messenger business, he might have smote someone for that.

All three rings now delivered, Gabriel was taking time to run through a forest, letting Suros feel his body moving like it had when he had been young: strong and sure, with no creaking joints or mysterious aches. A mischievous tulpa raced alongside him, little more than a few incoherent thoughts presenting itself as a vaguely humanoid collection of mist and sparkles. Gabriel had to laugh. Humanity loved sparkles. They were almost as bad as magpies sometimes.

The tulpa couldn’t speak yet, but it whistled like the wind through a canyon, trying to dart in front of Gabriel to trip him up. The angel was more sure-footed than the tulpa liked and always leapt easily over the thought-creature. It was already exceedingly clever for its age. Gabriel suspected it would find enough believers to solidify into something capable of speech and true physical contact. Perhaps it would even ascend to deification and become a pagan god. Those were the kings of tulpas, creatures to be treated with respect and caution. A god (with a lowercase g) wasn’t a match for a Seraph, but they could give the lower Angels and Cherubim a real thrashing if they were offended.

The tulpa whistled in sudden distress, pulling up short and whipping its proto-head around. Something was rotten in this forest. It was alive, but sickly and poisoned, reeking of sulfur. The tulpa chirruped again darted away, fleeing back into the depths of the forest, away from the stink. Gabriel stopped running, wrapping his grace around Suros and tucking the human soul deep inside him, where he would be safe. His sword slid into his hand automatically as he crept through the trees. 

A little girl sat on a log, swinging her feet through the fallen leaves around her. She looked up as Gabriel approached, her brown eyes filming over into a milky white. The smirk on her face was old, full of malice and intelligence that no child should hold. “Hello there, _angel_.” 

God had declared that those Lucifer had created in the Underworld would serve as his guards, so the angels reluctantly left the demons alive as long as they stayed in the Underworld. They were useful as the caretakers of those souls too corrupt to enter Heaven. All of the twisted, evil souls that before had been left to wander the Earth forever were now shuttled downward, and the demons took them in and multiplied. The Archangels frowned at this behavior, but it was better that the Underworld be populated with easily-killed demons than anything more unpleasant and dangerous. As Raphael pointed out from his long experience guarding the Borderlands, empty realms spawned nightmares.

Demons were little threat to any angels, especially solitary ones on their own. Even this one, the first and oldest demon, wasn’t strong enough to hurt Gabriel. The Archangel stepped out of the trees, holding his sword loosely in his hand, the tip pointed down. He wouldn’t attack first, but if this painfully familiar demon tried to catch him off his guard, she’d dead before she could reach past his grace. “Greetings,” he said. “You’re a long way from home.”

Sorcha’s once-beautiful features were ravaged by the fires of the Underworld, originally kindled by Gabriel himself, and shredded by Lucifer’s claws, but even condensed beneath the skin of this child, Gabriel recognized the remains of his favorite vessel.

She looked like Sorcha, but this demon was no more Gabriel’s beloved vessel than Lucifer had been his beloved brother. What Lucifer had done to her in the underworld had stripped her of her memories and purity. He renamed her _Lilith_. Gabriel had heard that name whispered among the humans already, slipping into the narrative of Heaven the angels had pushed onto the chosen ones. Lilith, the first wife of Adam, who refused to submit. Lilith, the demon who attacked children. Lilith, the Queen of the Damned, the wife of Lucifer.

Lilith, the one Gabriel had failed.

She couldn’t hurt Gabriel physically, but Lilith’s presence alone was enough to press a spike of guilt deep into his heart. He as good as created her. He had brought her to Lucifer’s attention, and he had upset his brother enough for Lucifer to seek his revenge on her. He feared he would never be able to repent enough to erase this sin from his spirit.

Lilith tilted her head to the side, her white eyes horribly out of place in the face of the child she wore. “I recognize that blade,” she said, pointing to the sword Gabriel held loosely. “It’s quite a bit bigger than your brothers’.”

“Quite a bit more powerful too,” Gabriel replied. “Which brothers’ are you comparing it too?”

Lilith shrugged childishly, kicking a foot and decapitating a mushroom. “I don’t know their names. The ones the Nephilim took. They had short swords, more like big daggers, really.” She held up her small hands to indicate the size of an Angel’s sword to Gabriel.

“They stole those swords from my brothers,” Gabriel said. “No Nephilim will steal _this_ sword. I keep it close.”

“I know.” Lilith grinned and held out her hands, flapping her fingers in a _gimme gimme_ gesture. “May I hold it?”

Gabriel actually laughed at the demon’s joke, confident that Lilith didn’t actually think he’d hand his sword over. “Absolutely not! Don’t think I’ll fall for your tricks, demon!”

“Ooh, damn!” Lilith snapped her fingers in frustration. “Thought I had you there! But then again, I should have known better than to try to fool an Archangel.”

“Aren’t you scared of me?” Gabriel asked, setting his head to the side as he watched the demon. If she knew he was an Archangel, surely she knew he could easily kill her.

“Should I be?” Lilith asked, leaning back on her hands. “You’re not my Creator. You’re certainly not Michael, the biggest, baddest angel of them all. And if you were Raphael, you would have already had my head severed from my neck. That means you’re Gabriel, the Messenger, and you’re the most likely to give a girl a chance.”

Gabriel shook his head, lifting his sword to gesture to Lilith with the tip. “Don’t think this body is what’s protecting you.”

“I wasn’t talking about the body,” Lilith cooed, pushing herself off the log and dusting off her dress. “You like to talk first, kill later. Good trait for a Messenger. Even better for me, because I have a message for you.”

“A message?”

Lilith nodded. “For all your brothers, actually. Take it to Michael and to Raphael, okay?”

Gabriel _was_ the Messenger, and while his first loyalty was to God, he never turned down a personal request to carry a message. If Lilith wanted him to deliver a message for her, then he would deliver the message. “As you wish. What is the message?”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Is that the entire message?”

Lilith’s malicious grin was back, and she spread her arms. “Thank you for the children. Their souls are _amazing_.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, looking beyond Lilith at the soul of the child she possessed. At first, aside from a coat of tarnish from the presence of the demon and the actions she carried out in the child’s body, he didn’t see anything out of sorts. “I don’t understand…”

“Look closer,” Lilith prompted. “Doesn’t she look familiar?”

The face wasn’t familiar. Gabriel had no little girls in his bloodline of the right age, and neither did Michael or Raphael that he knew of. The patterns in her soul kept catching Gabriel’s eye. He had seen those somewhere before…

_Abaddon._

One of Lucifer’s angels, one of the traitors Michael had purged from Heaven, Abaddon had been a Seraph, fourth-class. She had been easily overlooked as she moved into Raphael’s choir after Lucifer’s exile, and her vicious swordsmanship had earned her admiration from the more senior Seraphim. She had thrown her allegiance in firmly with Azazel, and Michael had ripped out her grace eight years ago.

This little girl wasn’t one of Abaddon’s vessels: she was the fallen angel herself. Her human soul bore all the same signatures as Abaddon’s angelic spirit, but now it was tainted by Lilith. At eight years old, the little girl’s soul was already destined to fall straight to the Underworld upon her death.

A fallen angel would fall again, and in the Underworld, her soul would be attacked by the demons, ripped and burned and mauled until she rose as one of them.

Lilith laughed as the realization broke across Gabriel’s face, clapping her hands together. “You see? You see! We have them _all_ , Gabriel! We waited for the falling stars, and we captured them all as soon as their guardian angels cleared out! And now…” Lilith spun in the fallen leaves, her dress twirling out around her skinny legs. “Look at her soul! You can’t redeem it! You can’t stop it! She dies, and she’s ours! They’re all ours! _And you can’t save them_!”

Gabriel spread his wings and flew, racing toward his brothers as quickly as he could, Lilith’s laughter chasing after him.


	47. Fall With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Raphael are less than impressed by Gabriel’s message, but Cariel, at least, is willing to dream with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the math, guys. In order to catch you up with this story on other sites, I have to post two chapters a day for the rest of the year.
> 
> Here we go!

### Fall with You

“And?”

Michael sat behind his desk, hands folded loosely on the surface, his frozen expression fixed on Gabriel’s face. He looked utterly unconcerned about the message Gabriel had brought before him, though Gabriel wasn’t sure if that was genuine disinterest or if the Archangel was simply not bothered to change his expression.

“How is this a concern?” Raphael had followed Gabriel’s summon to join his brothers in Michael’s office, standing off to the side with his arms crossed. He, at least, looked disgruntled, but Gabriel knew that was more from being interrupted than from the news that the fallen angels had been claimed by the demons.

“They’re all going to the Underworld! They’ll become demons!”

“Are you trying to get us to mourn them, or celebrate?” Raphael asked, frowning at Gabriel. “Demons are pests, not threats.”

“This was their intent from the beginning.” Michael still hadn’t moved. “I saw it in Azazel’s mind. He wanted to rejoin his master. Let him.” Michael flickered, holding a report now, his attention focused on that instead of his younger brother. “Let them all. It is the only mercy they will receive after what they did.”

“I agree with Michael. If the fallen ones are lost to Heaven, good. We don’t need the likes of them cluttering up humanity’s Heaven.” Raphael shook his head. “Honestly, Gabriel, you get excited about the smallest things.”

“But what if it’s _not_ the smallest thing?” Gabriel slammed his hands down on Michael’s desk, trying to catch his older brother’s attention again. “ _Azazel_! Alive again! He was Lucifer’s _right hand angel_. Do we really want that mind turned against us?”

“Azazel is already alive again,” Raphael pointed out. “And his human form is just as brain-dead as you left his angelic form.”

“But what if-”

“Gabriel…” Raphael stepped forward, curling his fingers around Gabriel’s arm and giving him a tug. “You broke Azazel. He’s no longer a threat. None of the fallen are a threat. No demon has ever been a threat. And if they are a threat? _I_ will handle it.”

“But-”

“Let’s leave Michael alone,” Raphael stressed. “Come _on_ , Gabriel.”

With one last look at Michael, who was steadily ignoring them both, Gabriel relented and let Raphael tug him out of the office. “Raphael, I’m serious, I think we have a genuine problem brewing here! Lilith was very excited about these formerly angelic souls.”

“They don’t have grace anymore, Gabriel. Without their grace, they cannot manifest their swords. Without their swords, they cannot kill an angel. We _will_ win if they try to fight us.”

“You know damn well that’s not the only way to kill an angel,” Gabriel grabbed Raphael’s arm, forcing him to stop. “Raphael, if they remember _anything_ , we could actually be in trouble. Azazel’s not the only one they have. Alastair is down there. His mind wasn’t broken. If the demons’ racks can unlock his memories… and Abaddon? Do you honestly think she’d be a weaker opponent than one of the Nephilim? If they could disarm an Angel, these fallen-”

“ _If_ they attack us, my angels will repel them. Stop worrying. It isn’t suited for an Archangel.”

“If they attack us, they’ll attack mine first,” Gabriel snapped back. “My angels are on Earth, within easy reach of the demons.”

“Then call to me and run away.” Raphael folded his arms as he fixed a level stare onto Gabriel. “I still don’t see what your problem is.”

Gabriel stared back at Raphael. “You’re not even trying to consider a worst-case scenario.”

“You’re overreacting.”

Raphael was not going to be budged. Gabriel knew his brother too well. He groaned in frustration, turning his back on his twin and flying off without another word. He’d find understanding elsewhere.

Cariel glanced up as Gabriel entered his office, offering the Archangel a crooked smile. “You look furious. Raphael again, or was it Michael this time?”

“Both!” Gabriel flung himself into his chair, slouching low in the seat, his wings bunched up high. “More Raphael than Michael. I can’t even bring myself to get too mad at Michael. He’s just so…” He flapped a hand before crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“So not there?” Cariel asked, picking up some papers scattered by Gabriel’s dramatic flumph and heading toward a cabinet to file them properly. “Broken? Missing part of himself?”

“Yeah…” Gabriel closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. This was a familiar conversation, shared between the two of them for the past eight years. It was easier to talk about how damaged Michael was, or how frustrating Raphael could be, than to address the gigantic pink dancing elephant in the room: the accusation from the traitors that Cariel had been Gabriel’s lover.

Gabriel had been thinking about how to deal with Cariel’s affection on and off ever since his lieutenant had kissed him in the ocean all those centuries ago. He was no closer to a solution today than he had been when it had first happened. All he could think to do was pretend it didn’t exist. He pretended he felt nothing more than deep friendship for his second, that the love he felt for Cariel was strictly brotherly.

It wasn’t, but Gabriel was good at pretending.

Cariel seemed to be following Gabriel’s lead, if he knew about the accusations at all. Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure if Alastair had told Cariel that Gabriel knew, but he wouldn’t put it past the deceitful Seraph. Alastair loved wreaking havoc. He might have told Cariel just to see the expression on his brother’s face.

Gabriel heaved a sigh and let his arms drop, dangling over the sides of the chair to trail against the floor, trying to change his mental subject. “The demons have claimed the fallen angels.”

“Already?” Cariel hummed thoughtfully, closing the low drawer he was rummaging in and standing up again. He flicked his wings idly and strode over to another cabinet. “I would have thought they’d want to wait a few more years, to be safe, but I suppose they’d rather not risk any of the souls escaping with an early death during a time of innocence.”

Gabriel sat up, frowning at Cariel. “You _knew_?”

“Knew? No.” Cariel turned to meet Gabriel’s gaze full-on. “Suspected? Of course. It’s what I would have done.”

“What you would have…?”

“You _moron_.” Cariel was the only angel allowed to look fondly exasperated at Gabriel without causing a fuss. Sammael used to be able to, but Lucifer wasn’t. It was this unfortunately familiar look that Cariel gave the Archangel as he approached the chair across from him and took a seat. “If you were the exiled Archangel, I would do everything I could to get back to your side. However, if you ordered me to stay here in Heaven and be your eyes and ears in the Host, I would do so, but not before first creating a back-up plan so that should my true loyalties be discovered, I could still return to you. Azazel’s method is crude, but it got the job done. Spirit turned into soul. Soul goes to the Underworld, becomes demon. Demon rules at Lucifer’s right hand. Of course, that’s assuming Lucifer was in on the plan.”

“Lilith was,” Gabriel pointed out. “Why wouldn’t Lucifer be?”

“Because of that nasty in-between stage.” Cariel wagged a finger back and forth. “Angel _falls_ , becomes something less. Becomes _human_. Lucifer hates humans.”

“He hated our interference with humanity. Not humans themselves.” Lucifer had said as much to Gabriel once, centuries ago.

Cariel was shaking his head slowly. “Maybe at first, but after the whole bloody war? If I were in his place, exiled for not bowing to humans, attacked by my most beloved partner—assuming I still loved my partner—attacked by _you_? I’d hate humans for all the pain their mere existence caused me. And what is a demon but a ruined human? Lucifer would never respect an angel who willingly gave up his grace and power to become a human, even if it were to ultimately return to his side, unless he were the one who ordered it.”

“But you still would have carried out the plan if you were in Azazel’s place?”

“Of course,” Cariel answered without any hesitation. “Better to be a demon but at your side than an angel and forever separated.”

Cariel seldom spoke of the depth of his feelings toward Gabriel, though it was very much an open secret between them now. Even if Alastair hadn’t told him, he couldn’t imagine Gabriel was so blind as to have missed all the signs. Gabriel looked away. “You think Azazel felt like that for Lucifer.”

“We all do,” Cariel said quietly. “Did. The four original lieutenants. Filiel, Azazel, Marmoniel, and me. We all _love_ the Archangel we serve. We would obey any order if it came from the lips of our Archangel. We would lay down our lives without a single thought if our Archangel were in danger. Filiel _did_ , for Michael. And we would destroy anything, _anything_ , that stood in our way between us and returning to our Archangel’s side. I knew Azazel would never follow Michael the way he did Lucifer the moment you told me about his reassignment. I just never thought he’d try to take all of Heaven down with him.” Cariel ducked his head, staring at his hands. “Oversight on my part. I know I would’ve.”

“Do you think they’re a threat? Azazel and Alastair and all of the other fallen?” Gabriel asked quietly, studying his second.

“It’s hard to tell at this point.” Cariel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No fallen angel has ever fallen again. Their souls are all accounted for in Heaven’s halls. We don’t know what the effect of the demons’ torture will be on their spirits. But I’d say… yes.” Gabriel frowned, and Cariel explained. “Their memories aren’t destroyed when they fall. The souls of the dead fallen we have here all know that they were angels once. Their minds were locked away when they fell, and unlocked when they returned to Heaven. Alastair, at least, has all his memories somewhere in his mind. Azazel might be the only one _not_ a danger, after what you did to him, but we don’t know what the act of dying and falling will do to those memories. It’s not Heaven—will they stay hidden away? They’ll be tortured. Will that be enough to break their memories loose? If Alastair recovers his mind, will he be able to use his ‘persuasion’ skills to unlock the others? Can the damage to Azazel be healed?” Cariel spread his hands in a helpless shrug. “Until these questions are answered, we don’t know enough to say no.”

“Raphael thinks they’re not dangerous. He says I’m over-reacting. Michael says he knew this would happen all along and is allowing it. They’ve both been treating me like a fledgling.” Gabriel shoved away from his desk and stalked over to a window. “It’s like they’ve completely forgotten that _I_ was running Heaven while they were recuperating. _I_ oversaw _both_ of their choirs, and my own! I didn’t let anything fall behind. I busted my wings for them, and they’re just-”

“Overcompensating.” Cariel shrugged again from the desk. “They know you took over, Gabriel, and that scared them. Not _you_ , but just that they needed you. Michael and Raphael aren’t exactly comfortable with showing weakness or giving up control.”

“So now they’re wresting it back?” Gabriel huffed. “They can have it! I don’t want to be in charge. “ He pressed his hand against the clear glass, looking down, through Heaven, through the Borderlands, his eyes growing unfocused as he pulled Earth into view. “Sometimes, I think about just leaving,” he admitted to Cariel. “Just running away from all of this _crap_ , and letting them sort it out. It’s not… it’s not paradise here anymore. I’m happier on Earth than when I’m in Michael’s presence.”

“What about me?” Cariel asked quietly. “Could I run away with you?”

Gabriel smiled, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the glass. “Of course, but… it would never work. We’d run to Earth, and Raphael would revel in the hunt to bring us back. We’d have to take vessels, and there are only so many humans we could choose from. He’d just have to track them all down until he found the ones we were hiding in, and then he’d drag us back before Michael. You’d probably be executed on the spot for betraying Heaven. They might petition Father to give me the same fate, or lock me away like Lucifer.” He laughed bitterly, closing his eyes. “We _can’t_ leave, Cariel. We’re trapped here. Forever.”

The Archangel could hear the soft sounds of Cariel rising to his feet, the whisper of his wings together as he walked. Cariel’s touch to his back, both hands pressing lightly between his own wings, came as no surprise. “Let’s pretend anyway.”

Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Cariel, and Cariel smiled at him. “Let’s pretend they can’t find us. We run away, take vessels, meet up somewhere. We’d have to have a story for why we’re traveling together. Family? No, your vessels are paler than milk, with that red hair, and mine are…”

“Decidedly Roman stock,” Gabriel said with a little smile. Cariel’s vessels tended toward olive skin and dark hair, with most of them settled around Rome and her neighboring towns. “We could be married.”

A pleased flush spread through Cariel’s grace at that suggestion, and he nodded. “Husband and wife. You could be the husband, a wild barbarian from the north-”

“-who fell in love with a Roman woman, and she brought him home to tame.”

“We settle in Rome, then?”

Gabriel nodded. “I’d be a curiosity. The Emperor himself would want to see me.”

“Rome’s a Republic,” Cariel corrected gently. “Caesar wasn’t really-”

“For now,” Gabriel interrupted with a little smirk. “I looked ahead. We’re getting a new empire on Earth.” He flexed his wings and looked back to Earth. “The Emperor would want to see me, this barbarian who spoke flawless Latin.”

“You’d impress him with your oration.”

“I’d have a place at his side, and his ear. I could encourage leniency toward God’s chosen ones, let them develop their religion without persecution.”

“And advise him on how best to conquer the barbarian lands without making a mess of things. All the while, I’ll be at home, befriending all the senators’ wives and gaining a reputation for having the very best parties. Everyone who’s anyone would want to be our friends.”

“It would help that they’re blessed just by being in our presence. Good fortune favors those we favor.”

“And woe betides any who incite our wrath.”

Gabriel laughed, turning to face Cariel, letting the Seraph’s hands slide over his body to rest on his chest. “What would our house be like?”

“Hmm…” Cariel tapped his fingers against Gabriel’s chest as he thought aloud. “We wouldn’t live in the center of the city. Too crowded, no place to stretch our wings. It would have to be on the edge of town, maybe in the hills. Large, but cozy. Smaller than this tower. Lots of bedrooms.”

“For the slaves?” Gabriel asked. Even as angels who required no food, bathing, or sleep, they would need slaves to keep up the appearances of a wealthy Roman family. They would have to make sure their slaves either never suspected their masters weren’t human, or never had reason to say anything…

What was he doing? Planning a non-existent future with Cariel? They would never have a cozy Roman home or melt into Roman society. They were _angels_ , trapped in Heaven by their brothers and a hive-minded obedience to an all-too-absent Father.

“For the future children we will insist to all our friends that we wish to have… is something wrong?” Cariel noticed the change in Gabriel’s mood and frowned, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Gabriel?”

“It’s impossible.” Gabriel closed his eyes and turned his face into the caress. “We’ll never have a life outside of Heaven. Maybe I _should_ have left when Lucifer offered.”

“Don’t say that,” Cariel scolded. “If you had followed Lucifer, you’d be locked away with him now, and I’d be at Azazel’s side. We _will_ find a way through this. Maybe we can’t leave now, maybe we won’t ever leave, but we will carve out a corner of the universe to be our paradise again, even if it means we have to change Heaven from the ground up.”

Gabriel snorted derisively. “Better chance of running for it, never settling in one place long. Not to Earth, but maybe to another planet. Easier for Raphael to sense our light somewhere unpopulated, but more places to run to. Maybe we could even try to make it Outside, where even Father has no dominion.”

“See?” Cariel smiled. “Not _impossible_. Just difficult. We’re good at difficult.”

Difficult indeed. Going Outside was a terrifying thought. Gabriel had no idea if Outside, where Death came from, where Father theoretically came from, was even real. He had no idea if an angel could survive Outside, or if it would be even more hostile than the Void. Far safer to try to hide from Raphael in a crowd of life on Earth. Could there be an alternative type of vessel? Raphael would search every human… but could an angel possess an animal? Or a mountain? Could Gabriel _become_ a volcano? He didn’t know. The more Gabriel realized he didn’t know, the more certain he was of one thing. 

There might actually be a way out.


	48. Hello, Zechariah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has a biblical message to carry to a priest named Zechariah.

### Hello, Zechariah

The old man's eyes were half-closed as he performed the rite of the incense offering all alone in the sanctuary of the temple. His lips formed each word deliberately, rapt devotion etched into his face as he went through the steps he knew by heart. Gabriel watched his hands move, listened to his prayers, and was bored.

It wasn't the old man, Zechariah's, fault. For a priest, he was genuinely incredibly devoted, with a true faith in God that burned like a flame within his soul. Gabriel was just tired of watching over all the rites and incantations that these temple ceremonies required. God didn't actually _care_. Not about the pageantry. The _faith_ was what was important, but even more than the faith, just love alone earned God's favor. A flawed man who genuinely loved _something_ , even if it were only his dog or his home, was greater than a man who loved nothing but followed all the rules.

Zechariah had the best kinds of love, love for God, love for his faith, love for his religion. He also had love for his wife and the people who looked to him for guidance. He was a good man, albeit one who had led a boring and safe life. 

Gabriel had seen a lot of these men lately. God had been sending him on Messenger errand after Messenger errand, bringing His word to His people. Prophets were popping up all over, with never a moment's rest between them. One of Gabriel's tasks as the Archangel watching over Earth was to protect the current prophet of the Lord. He had tried to pass the task off to Raphael, claiming that defense clearly fell under Raphael's jurisdiction, but Raphael passed it right back insisting that prophets bore the message and that was a job for the _Messenger_ , trumping everything else.

That had been back in the days when Michael still laughed, and he had laughed at both of them before tugging Gabriel aside and pointing out that setting Raphael to guard the prophets was like setting a fox to guard chickens—eventually, it would end with a big mess and a lot of blood. Gabriel had “diplomatic skills” that would be far more useful in this particular situation.

So Gabriel flew to Earth frequently, slotting messages into the prophets' dreams, smiting demons who tried to get too close (and some humans who tried to cut down the prophets before their time). When God told him to stop, Gabriel would stand back and let the prophets be killed, if that was their fate, or he would wait with them until their Reaper came if they were permitted a natural death of old age or sickness.

Prophets were _jackasses_. Once they realized they had an Archangel at their beck and call, they tended to abuse that power. Most of them liked sending Gabriel to bring back souls so they could be seen raising the dead. Jeremiah seemed to find fun in intentionally pissing people off and making Gabriel save him. Gabriel hated being their baby-sitter, but at least he didn't have to sit on their shoulder constantly. He could do other things with only one ear turned toward them in case they called.

Zechariah wasn't a prophet. He was just a priest, just an old man, but he was destined to father a prophet. For some reason, in the depths of His unfathomable mind, God had decided that Zechariah needed to be warned about this in advance. So Gabriel stood beside the altar, waiting for him to finish his prayer. It would be rude to interrupt.

The priest finished the rite with a murmured _Amen_ and a firm nod to himself accompanied by a mental _There, that's done it_ loud enough for Gabriel to hear without even trying. The angel unveiled himself, revealing his vessel just as the man lifted his head and opened his eyes.

Zechariah's reaction would have been priceless if Gabriel hadn't seen it a thousand times over already. The man clutched at his heart, staggering back, his eyes nearly bulging from his head. “How, you, who!?”

“Do not be afraid, Zechariah,” Gabriel intoned, the words as dry as the Sahara, “for your prayer has been heard.” He hated word-for-word messages. They were always so _boring_. “Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear you a son, and you will name him John.” _And others will add 'the Baptist,' because that is the name I know him as on my list of prophets._ “You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord.”

Zechariah wasn't looking much less afraid. Gabriel tried to throw in a smile, see if that helped. Nope. The old man was still terrified. Gabriel let his expression return to neutral. “He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah,” _Oh Father, do **not** get him started on Elijah's pyrophilia,_ “he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

And _done_! Gabriel's smile now was less forced, as the message had been delivered and he could now head back to Cariel, provided-

“How can this be? Because I'm an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.”

Provided Zechariah didn't ask stupid questions. “I am _Gabriel_ ,” Gabriel answered. His name was already known to God's chosen people as the Messenger of Heaven. He was one of only a handful of angels that they actually knew. Michael and Raphael's names were also fairly well known. None of the humans had heard of Cariel, because Cariel deliberately made sure his name was never mentioned. “I stood in the presence of God, and I was sent to bring you this news.”

Zechariah looked like he was about to ask another question. Gabriel narrowed his eyes and snapped his fingers, casting a silent hex. _You are getting a message directly from the mouth of God Himself, and you **doubt** me!?_ “Because you don't believe my words, which _will_ be fulfilled, I have made you mute, unable to speak, until your son is born. Any further questions?” 

Zechariah's mouth opened and closed uselessly, and Gabriel smiled thinly at the man. “You have faith in the Lord. Don't question Him again. Or me, when I'm speaking with His words.” He'd remove the spell once John was born, but for now, Gabriel simply folded his wings around himself, hiding from Zechariah's sight.

A snicker echoed in Gabriel's mind, emanating from behind the altar. Gabriel turned to see Cariel unveiling. The Seraph, so much weaker than the Archangels, had been able to hide from Gabriel's senses. “Impatient much?” Both angels were hidden from the human now. Gabriel could finally roll his eyes in exasperation. 

“It's not _him_ , it's just…”

“Isn't this the fifty-eighth message you've delivered to humans _this year_?” Cariel asked.

“Even my patience has limits,” Gabriel concluded with a little nod. “It wouldn't be such a pain if they didn't always react the same. They _want_ proof that we exist, but when we appear right in front of them, _that's_ when they bring out the doubt!”

“Maybe next time, show some wing?” Cariel suggested, spreading his own. “You know. Spice it up a bit.”

“ _Spice it up_?” It was all Gabriel could do not to laugh. “I'm the Messenger, Cariel, not the Escort!”

“He's imagined angels all his life,” Cariel said, pointing after where Zechariah had gone, out of the sanctuary. “I'd bet he's always imagined us with wings. Without wings, you're just another human.”

“So the next time I go to deliver a message to a human, you think I should show off my wings?”

Cariel nodded. “Maybe they'll doubt less if you're more like how they imagined.”


	49. Hello, Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After screwing with the poor old priest, Gabriel has to talk to a young woman named Mary and is stuck being a baby-sitter.

### Hello, Mary

_Look like how they imagined,_ Gabriel thought to himself as he walked invisibly behind the young woman. God had sent him with yet another message for yet another human, but He had stressed that this one was important. Hearing the content, Gabriel had to agree. He wasn’t even sure how it was going to be possible, but he wasn’t about to doubt God.

Gabriel had decided to take Cariel’s advice, creating a manifestation of his wings for the woman to witness. He hadn’t gone with the full five hundred and eighty-two—the physics alone of all his feathers could break the poor girl’s mind—but managed to make just four wings, two upper, two lower, full of his unique gold-edged feathers. He had even picked a vessel whose hair was more golden-red than the burnished copper most of his bloodline sported, to better match the wings. All in all, he felt he looked very stereotypically angelic. Time to try it out.

“Greetings, favored one!” God had specifically told him to call this woman that. “The Lord is with you.” Gabriel also offered her a friendly smile as he revealed himself to her. Women tended to be less doubtful and more entertaining, in Gabriel’s experience. They were also much less common. God preferred talking to men.

The woman’s hand was millimeters away from Gabriel’s face before he caught her wrist, keeping the slap from landing. She stared at him with huge brown eyes, simultaneously furious and afraid. “I’ll scream!” she warned him. “I _will_ scream!”

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

“Do not be afraid, Mary,” Gabriel said, rustling his wings for emphasis. _Not a bad guy! Angel!_ “For you have found favor with God.”

“What if I don’t want favor?”

This woman was breaking the script! Gabriel frowned at her. “You don’t want favor with _God_? Lord of All? Big guy in the sky?”

Mary pouted and looked away, giving her wrist a tug. Gabriel released her and folded his arms. “Why would He want anything to do with me?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered with an honest shrug. “He likes you? He wants you to bear His son.” Mary’s hand came whistling toward Gabriel’s face again, and again, he barely caught her before she slapped him. “Would you _stop_ that!? I’m just the Messenger here!”

“And I’m a virgin!” Mary retorted. “I’ve been promised to Joseph. I will not be… be _consorting_ with others, not even _God_ , before my wedding night!”

“You don’t have to…” Gabriel tipped his head back, looking toward Heaven for guidance. He imagined he could hear Cariel laughing in his head again. “Look. God is God. He can do anything. He can make you pregnant while still keeping you a virgin. I think that’s actually His intent. So, you say yes, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus, and everyone is happy.” He released her arm again.

“What if I say no?” Mary narrowed her eyes. “I _am_ allowed to say no, right? He’s God, but… I have free will.”

“You would say no to _God_?”

“No man would _touch_ me if I bore a child without a husband! I’d be worse than a widow trying to raise a baby on my own—even my family might cast me out for this! You try being a single mother and tell me you’d say yes!” 

Gabriel had to admit, he was impressed by this young woman. She was clearly terrified out of her mind—even if Gabriel couldn’t read the fear in her soul, he could see it written across her body language and in her face—but she had still attempted to slap him, an obviously inhuman being, twice, _and_ she was talking about defying the direct will of God. Gabriel himself had nearly collapsed from terror the one time he had openly very nearly defied God, thousands of years ago when God had asked him if he could kill Cariel.

“Would He even let me say no?” Mary asked quietly, rubbing her wrist and looking up at Gabriel warily. “Would _you_?”

Gabriel blew out a breath and shrugged. “I suppose I’d have to. It’s not my place to force you to do anything. I’m just delivering a message. But then I’d have to take the message back to God. _That_ will be a fun conversation.”

“I haven’t _said_ no. I’m just considering.” Mary was hunched over on herself, her shoulders curving together protectively. “Joseph won’t like it…”

Something inside Gabriel’s spirit softened at the quiet edge in her voice. After all of the doubting men he’d delivered messages to, this strong young woman was a welcome change. Slowly, so as not to scare her further, Gabriel stepped forward and reached out to rest his hand lightly on Mary’s shoulder. “I’ll go to Joseph,” he assured her. “If you say yes to God, I will make sure Joseph understands and doesn’t think anything less of you. I will make sure he still marries you, that you are not alone and forsaken. This child will be the Son of God, and you will be blessed among women.”

“Will it hurt?” Mary’s head was bowed, her hair falling around her face and blocking it from Gabriel’s view.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered. “But I will send… no. I will _personally_ watch over you, and if it _does_ hurt, I will take your pain. Just call out my name, Gabriel, and I will come to you.”

Mary gave a little nod of understanding, her arms slipping down to curve around her belly. “I… I am the servant of the Lord,” she whispered. Slowly, she lifted her head to meet Gabriel’s eyes. Though her voice was wavering, her eyes shone determinedly. “Let it be with me according to your word.”

Gabriel smiled at the woman, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. “Why don’t you go visit your cousin, Elizabeth?” he suggested. “Even in her old age, she has also conceived a son with the help of God. She’s about six months pregnant now. She can talk to you, help you.”

Mary nodded again, offering Gabriel a weak smile back. Gabriel touched her cheek and leaned in to press a kiss against her forehead, murmuring a blessing against her skin. Mary closed her eyes at the gesture, and Gabriel flew before she could open them again.

Cariel glanced over as Gabriel reentered his office, his eyes falling to the four-winged vessel the Archangel still wore. “Better luck this time, boss?”

“She tried to slap me twice,” Gabriel grumbled. “But I liked her.”

Cariel laughed and pointed toward Gabriel’s desk. “Wish I could have seen that! You got a message while you were out, from someone in Michael’s choir.”

“Hmm?” Gabriel picked up the sealed note, frowning at it. “What does Michael want now?”

“It wasn’t Michael.” Cariel shook his head. “A Cherub. Metatron, I think? The Scribe?”

Gabriel felt his own grace flatten around him, his eyes narrowing. “What does _he_ want?” he snapped, cutting through the seal with a flick of his fingers and unfolding the note.

“Jealousy isn’t very becoming on you.”

“I’m not jealous of Metatron! I just don’t like him.” Gabriel scanned the note, his frown growing into a full scowl.

“Bad news?”

“It’s a mission from Father.” Gabriel looked over at Cariel. “He can’t even be bothered to assign me Himself? He makes His Scribe do it now?”

“Father is very busy-” Cariel began.

“He is not!” Gabriel interrupted. “He barely does anything these days! If you really look, everything we ascribe to Father is actually tended to by an angel. The Cherubim do more of Father’s work than Father does. He just sits around in the Garden writing books with Metatron, or flits around the universe to look at newborn stars!” Gabriel flung the note back to the desk and threw himself into his chair, arms crossed, glaring at the far wall.

“I didn’t know that.” Cariel’s voice was quiet, a faint thread of shock in his grace.

“Most don’t. Most don’t even bother to look. They just assume.” Gabriel shook his head. “Father does very little. It’s like…” _Like He’s preparing us to continue without Him._

Mary was going to bear the Son of God in her womb. Metatron was writing an “instruction manual” in the event of God’s absence.

_He’s leaving us._

Was God _dying_? _Could_ He die? Or was He just tired of this universe and wanting to start over, somewhere new, somewhere without all the baggage of Heaven and Lucifer? What would happen if God left the universe? Would _they_ die? Without God, could the universe even function?

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. Cariel was looking at him with concern. “What happened there?”

“I just realized…” He couldn’t tell Cariel. Bad enough his Seraph now realized the truth of God’s lack of involvement. God actually _leaving_ was a matter for the Archangels to deal with, like Lucifer’s original strife with Michael, or the first banishment. Only once the Archangels had any idea what they were doing should he let Cariel in on his assumptions. Gabriel pasted a smile on his face and looked over at his lieutenant. “Just realized that even Dad can get bored.”

“Right.” Cariel looked skeptical, but he knew better than to press Gabriel if Gabriel were lying to him. The only time Gabriel lied to Cariel, after all, was when he genuinely couldn’t tell him the truth. “What’s the mission then?”

“This recent message I delivered,” Gabriel said. “To the woman? I told her she was going to have a son.”

“Isn’t that the same message you delivered a few months back, to that priest?”

“Not quite.” Gabriel smiled thinly. “ _This_ child will be known as the Son of God, born to a woman still a virgin.”

Cariel was silent for a minute. “The Son of _God_? Our God?”

“I don’t think Dad is sending me to announce the birth of tulpa babies.”

“But… _we’re_ His sons.”

“We’re sons of His,” Gabriel agreed, “but I don’t think any of us can claim to be _The_ Son. I think this one’s going to be more like Him than like an angel.”

“Is that even possible?”

Gabriel just gave a fluid shrug. “It’s _God_. Nothing is impossible with Him.”

Cariel shook his head, dismissing the belief issues with a wave of his hand. “So what does this have to do with your mission?”

Gabriel picked up the note again to read the task exactly as it was written. “I am to ‘walk at the Son’s side all the days of his life,’ to ‘serve and protect him,’ as if he were the ‘prophet of prophets.’”

“You’ve protected prophets before,” Cariel pointed out. “It can get tedious, but it’s not exceptionally difficult.”

“I’m not allowed to be more than fifty feet away from Jesus at any point during his life.” Gabriel opened his fingers to let the note drop again. “Without a vessel. He’s making an exception to the twenty-four hour rule for me alone, for the lifetime of Jesus.”

“Ah.” Cariel winced. “What did you do to piss Him off?”

“Maybe this is punishment for Zechariah?” Gabriel sank his head into his hands, grimacing. A human lifetime was nearly a century. While he didn’t mind being away from Heaven for a century, adding the restriction of ‘no vessel’ meant that Gabriel would have to stay veiled for that entire time. He couldn’t interact with humans without killing them, unless one of his bloodline happened to wander thousands of miles away from home to cross his path. He’d be a silent observer, alone in the crowd of Judea, unless other angels came by to visit.

Gabriel knew his choir would be happy to check in with him, to give him conversation and news of the Host, but they all had their own tasks to do. He couldn’t have constant companions on Earth. He’d be largely isolated for that entire century. It was a punishment wrapped in honors, a gift he was not able to refuse but one that he did not want.

“You’ll have to run my choir in my absence,” Gabriel sighed. “I can’t take you with me, or else Raphael will try to seize control. I’ll need you to hold him off up here.”

“I’ll visit frequently,” Cariel promised. “I’ll need to, after all. I may be able to do most of the day-to-day work, but there are some things that will need an Archangel’s approval. You _are_ allowed company on this mission, correct?”

“He doesn’t seem to forbid that.” Gabriel looked over his desk at Cariel. “Come as often as you can. I’ll miss you.”


	50. FINALLY Jesus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus is tempted in the desert by the devil, but with Lucifer incarcerated, another demon has to step up and fill his shoes.

### FINALLY Jesus

He had been on Earth for thirty years. Thirty unbearably long years. Gabriel dragged his wings through the dust as he trudged after Jesus, two paces behind the man. “That was nice of Dad, wasn’t it? That show with the light and the bird and the voice? Nice to know He’s actually still around. Could’ve done without the dunking in the water, but hey, that’s just me. You seemed to like it. John really got off on it too. I’m not even going to pretend to understand the reasoning behind baptism, but the symbolism makes sense, I suppose. Purification, washing away your sins, giving you a fresh start… it doesn’t actually _mean_ anything, but if it makes you feel better, I say, go for it. Speaking of going, where _are_ we going?” 

Jesus didn’t answer. Jesus _never_ answered. Jesus was as observant as a box of rocks when it came to the invisible celestial being who had hounded his every step from the moment he was born into the world.

That wasn’t entirely fair. Jesus did seem to know Gabriel was there. There were times, especially when he were a boy, that Jesus would pray, and when he finished, he’d turn his head just so and open his eyes so he was staring right at Gabriel, no matter where Gabriel was. Sometimes, when lost in thought, Jesus’ unfocused gaze would track toward Gabriel, drawn to the immense well of power he could probably feel. In thirty years, he had never spoken to Gabriel though, never indicated that he could actually see the angel.

For a human, Jesus was fairly exceptional. He was a bright, curious boy, always wanting to learn _everything_. He had all of the teachings of the elders memorized, and when he was six, Gabriel had witnessed him resurrecting a dead lizard entirely with his own power, no help from an angel.

Gabriel had eventually rescued the lizard, because Jesus’ younger brothers weren’t exactly the type to play nicely with pets who couldn’t stay dead to save their lives. They weren’t _bad_ kids, they were just… kids.

Cariel visited every time the moon was full, with news from Heaven such as about how insufferable Raphael was being ( _He always questions me, every time I leave, as if I’m going to do something **other** than visit you. As if I’m coming to Earth ‘too frequently.’ He seems to think I’m plotting the second war in Heaven._ ), how Michael continued to creep everyone out ( _Several of Raphael’s Seraphim crossed his path the other day and respectfully asked if he could spar with some of their Cherubim, to help them hone their swordsmanship. Michael agreed and let the thirty Cherubim surround him. In just a blink, they were all on their backs and Michael hadn’t even appeared to have moved. Another blink, and he was gone entirely._ ), and how Barachiel’s wings were actually returning ( _We call them winglets, because they’re far too delicate for him to fly with, but he definitely has a full set of wings again, and they grow fuller with each passing day! He hopes he can fly again before you return to us, so he can come visit you himself._ ).

Once or twice a month wasn’t nearly frequently enough for Gabriel, though he knew it was very frequent for a busy angel measuring time by Heaven’s standards. The other angels of his choir did pause whenever they were passing through, but very few of them were irreverent enough to offer Gabriel any sort of genuine conversation.

Gabriel sighed as Jesus led them out into the desert. He could see the piece of his Father’s spirit burning brightly within Jesus’ soul. This man really was chosen by God for great things. Gabriel pitied him. He rather reminded him of Castiel, singled out for _something_ , but with no idea what and no guarantee that it would work. “You do realize that there’s no food in the desert, right? I mean, manna, sure, I can snap my fingers and whip you up some, but I’m not very good with water. And the desert’s even more boring than the town. Can’t even people-watch in the desert.”

Jesus continued to ignore Gabriel for weeks, fasting, praying, and sitting in the hot sun with no protection. That last one was the final straw. Gabriel flung his arms up in frustration at his charge. “Of _course_ you’re going to sit out here, no shade, no water, no food! You’re going to bake yourself, you idiot!”

Silence.

Gabriel groaned and snapped his fingers, bending the sun’s rays around the man so he didn’t cook. He wouldn’t even overheat like this. He had already saved Jesus from dehydration six times, and filled his stomach to keep him from starving to death twice. “I am too old to be a baby-sitter for morons,” the Archangel grumbled.

“I’d be inclined to agree.”

The voice came from a being who hadn’t been standing behind Gabriel just a moment ago. Rotten life grated against Gabriel’s grace, a discordant chord in the song of the desert. _Demon_. Not just any demon, oh no. Gabriel knew that voice, that cool lilt to the vowels, the words curling around an ever-present smile.

Sure enough, when the Archangel turned, the man behind him was smirking, his eyes glazed over with a sickly mustard yellow. “It’s been a long time, Gabriel.”

“Azazel. Here I thought I’d seen the last of you.” It had been nearly forty years since the traitors were thrown to Earth. Plenty of time for Lilith’s crew to corrupt them and reap their souls, and with the temporal disconnect between Earth and the underworld, Azazel could have spent centuries recovering.

“I’m harder to kill than that, but I do have to commend your effort. I needed Alastair’s help to fit all the pieces of my mind back together. That was an unexpected delay.”

“You shouldn’t have gone after Cariel.”

“He was too much of a threat. Ultimately, he did lead to the discovery of my true loyalty, but really, he was suspicious from the start. You have a good lieutenant.”

“He said he should have known you’d bring down Heaven to be with Lucifer again, that any of you original lieutenants would.

Azazel tapped the side of his nose with one finger, looking pointedly at Gabriel. “This is true. Perhaps then you should ask yourself why _Marmoniel_ said nothing.”

Gabriel growled at Azazel, letting his sword slide into his hand. His fingers curled around the hilt, but he didn’t raise the blade yet. “I won’t listen to your attempts to spread more suspicion through Heaven.”

“Ah ah ah!” Azazel wagged his finger at Gabriel, drawing out a folded slip of paper with his other hand. “You don’t want to do that. I’m here on invitation from above, actually.” He held up the paper, letting Gabriel see the slit seal that had held it shut—Metatron’s seal. “I was a bit disappointed the message wasn’t delivered by the Messenger, but I realize now that you were busy with other things.”

“I _do_ want to do that, very much,” Gabriel snapped, but instead of stabbing Azazel with his sword, he simply snatched the note from the demon’s fingers. “Why were you invited?”

“I’m supposed to tempt your charge, see if he’s as godly as he’s meant to be.” Azazel shrugged as Gabriel read the note that agreed with his words. “Shouldn’t be too hard. He looks like an idiot.”

“Good luck,” Gabriel answered, clenching his hand around his sword for a moment before banishing it. “This should be fun to watch.”

Azazel rolled his head on his shoulders before manifesting fully, letting Jesus become aware of him. “Hello, boy. Enjoying the sun? Feeling hungry yet?”

Jesus opened his eyes and craned his head back, looking up at the demon. He said nothing. Gabriel smirked. “It’s not just me he ignores!”

Azazel shot the angel a dark look before scooping up some heavy stones from the ground, holding them as easily as if they were pumice. “If you are the Son of God, you can command these stones to become loaves of bread, and you’ll have food to eat.”

Jesus licked his dry lips before answering, his voice raspy and cracked, “It is written, one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Azazel’s smile soured, and he vanished from Jesus’ sight, letting the rocks fall to his feet. Gabriel folded his arms and smirked at the demon. “He may be an idiot, but he’s not weak.”

“And you’ve been keeping his belly full.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’ve been keeping him alive, but I haven’t made him feel full in three days now. He’s bound to be hungry, but food won’t tempt him.”

“He knows you won’t let him starve.” Azazel rubbed his hand over his mouth and nodded. “Power, then.” He reached out to grab Jesus’ shoulder. Gabriel spread his grace, folding himself through the universe as Azazel teleported Jesus to the highest pinnacle of the roof of the temple in Jerusalem. He landed beside the pair with a scowl.

“Bit of warning next time?”

“You kept up,” Azazel shot back, before turning his attention to Jesus, visible to the man again. Jesus looked a bit unsteady on his feet, spreading his arms for balance. “If you are the Son of God, fall. It is written, ‘He will command His angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’“ The demon smirked back at Gabriel over Jesus’ shoulder. Gabriel pulled a face right back at him. If Jesus fell, Gabriel _would_ catch him. Like a prophet, Jesus was not to die before God said it was time. “Fall, and make the angels save you.”

Jesus did not fall. He found a place to hold on to, curling his fingers around the sun-warmed stone of the temple and looking back at Azazel. “Again, it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’“

Gabriel laughed as Azazel whisked them away again, folding himself after them to keep within fifty feet of Jesus. They ended up on a mountain this time. With a flourish, Azazel summoned visions of all the major cities of the world into view, most of which Jesus could not even know existed. “All of these I will give you, if you will bow down to me. Give praise to Lucifer, and you will rule this world of humans.”

Jesus glared at Azazel, scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. “Away with you, Satan!” he spat at the demon. “For it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only Him!’“

Azazel rolled his eyes and vanished from Jesus’ sight again. He clapped his hands slowly to Gabriel. “Well done. Three tests, three points to your boy. My job here is done.”

“Now I can smite you?” Gabriel asked, rolling his wrist to summon his sword into his hand.

“If you can catch me.” Azazel smirked and vanished, gone like smoke on the wind.

Gabriel growled after him, silently cursing the man he was tied to. He couldn’t hunt Azazel down if he couldn’t leave Jesus’ side. He’d have to report this to Raphael and hope his twin would finally accept the danger from the fallen angels.

“You’re an angel.” 

Jesus was looking at him. Jesus was _actually_ looking at him! His eyes were focused and alert, and Gabriel was the full subject of the man’s attention. “Are you Gabriel, the one who spoke with my mother?”

Gabriel looked to his left, then to his right. No other angels were around. Slowly, he sheathed his sword and turned to face Jesus fully. “Yeeeees… you can see me?” And Jesus’ eyes weren’t burning out? He wasn’t cringing at the angelic voice, not meant for human ears?

“You are _beautiful_ “ Jesus reached out to touch Gabriel, his fingers brushing through the light of the angel’s wings. Gabriel jumped at the touch, jerking his wings back. Not since Vindonnus, his very first vessel, had a human touched his wings. Jesus didn’t seem to notice the rejection, or just didn’t care. He stepped closer, reaching for Gabriel’s wing again. Gabriel shivered as the man’s fingers passed through his feathers, streaking trails of pure divinity across his spirit. “Truly, you are a creation of my Father.”

“Could you stop that?” Gabriel asked, pulling his wings back as far as he could and still not able to escape Jesus’ touch. His grace was trying to stick to Jesus, getting pulled by the man’s hand like cobwebs, threatening to unravel from the gentle touch. “Please?” The word was tight in his throat, drawn out by the same force that was calling to his grace.

“Sorry.” Jesus let his hand drop, and Gabriel could relax again. The man tilted his head back to stare directly at the sun. “I really am the Son of God? I feel… different. I’m talking to an _angel_.”

“You are a direct creation of my Father, God, the Lord of all,” Gabriel answered carefully. “You have no human father. I can only presume this means my Father is your Father.”

“Does that make us brothers?” Jesus asked, looking at Gabriel with a little smile.

“No,” Gabriel answered immediately. “You are… you are not an angel,” he clarified. “You are human and… something else. I do not know if this makes you a god like God, but you are not like me, and I am not like you. I am your guardian. It is my duty to protect you.”

“Starting now?”

“Starting when you were born. I have walked beside you your entire life.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“You shouldn’t see me now,” Gabriel spread his arms. “I am invisible to the human eye. You have sensed me, I think, but I’m not doing anything different than I was five minutes ago.”

Jesus turned away for a moment, pressing his hand to his head. “This is… this is a lot to take in. How long was I in the wilderness?”

“Forty days,” Gabriel answered. “Roughly.”

“You kept me alive.”

“Yes.”

“Forty days,” Jesus repeated, then sighed. “That is a good number. And I was tested by the devil himself.”

 _You were tested by a demon,_ Gabriel thought. _Lucifer didn’t come anywhere near you._ He didn’t say this to Jesus. The man seemed overwhelmed enough by everything. “Why don’t we go back to civilization,” he suggested, stepping forward to touch Jesus’ arm. “I’ll carry you to Galilee. You can rest there, eat, drink, and bathe, and then we can figure out where to go next.”

“That sounds good,” Jesus said. As Gabriel gathered the man into his arms, he smiled at the angel. “Thank you.”

Jesus was asleep almost as soon as Gabriel stepped into the sky. Gabriel held the man close against his chest, a spark of protectiveness flickering to life. If Father tasked him to care for this prophet, then he would care for this prophet without complaint.


	51. The Tulpa and the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm on the Sea of Galilee has Jesus performing a miracle, while a friendly tulpa has a chat with our Earth-bound Archangel.

### The Tulpa and the Sea

_Gabriel!_

Jesus’ shout rang out clearly in Gabriel’s mind, which was good, because he certainly couldn’t hear much over the howling wind. He was holding on to the mast himself, his wings streaming behind him in the storm. He hated wind. It reminded him far too much of Raphael.

 _Gabriel, can’t you do something!?_ Jesus was within the ship, pretending to be asleep. He was very good at pretending to sleep. It fooled his somewhat-dimwitted disciples while giving him time to confer with his angelic protector. Gabriel had taught Jesus how to speak through his grace after a few people muttered suspiciously about the man who talked to the air.

Gabriel sighed to himself, shaking his head. He could barely feel the rain pouring down on him, but he knew it was there. Water all around, and not so much as a candle flame to bank his own spirit with. This voyage was _horrible_.

_I’ll save you if the ship goes down, but I’m not the angel to call about the storm. That’s Raphael._

_Will he answer my prayers?_

Gabriel didn’t mean to laugh into Jesus’ head. It just sort of slipped out. _Not likely. He hates humans, and from what I heard, he’s not too keen on the idea of a Son of God._

_I can’t let these people die! Can’t you save them all?_

_Rules are rules,_ Gabriel answered. _I can’t…_ Gabriel was here to protect Jesus and Jesus alone. Interfering to save an entire ship of people might be too much of a miracle for this day and age. It was one thing if Jesus did it himself, but Gabriel wasn’t supposed to intervene.

However, a potential loophole did come to mind. _Barachiel. Pray to the angel Barachiel. Tell him exactly where you are, so he knows what storm to calm._

_Can he help?_

_Unless Raphael is pissing on you directly, it’s actually one of Barach’s angels whipping this mess up._ Technically, Gabriel could tell him to stop himself, but he was trying not to give orders from Earth. Cariel needed to have as much power as possible in Heaven to keep Raphael from trying to step in. If Gabriel started throwing out orders down here, he risked undermining Cariel’s temporary authority.

Jesus was silent, but Gabriel could feel his prayer. Barachiel knew who Jesus was, and Gabriel was confident his good-natured Seraph would answer the man’s prayers. Sure enough, when Jesus opened his eyes, he shouted at the wind and it immediately quieted. The rain stopped falling, and Gabriel shook his wings off, folding them neatly against his back. _Congratulations, Jesus. You’ve performed another miracle._

_This one wasn’t mine._

_It impressed your followers. Go on, use this opportunity to teach them._

Gabriel didn’t bother listening as Jesus rebuked the men for lacking faith. He wiped his hands over his body and pulled a wing around front, grooming his feathers straight. He hated feeling wet.

_Your face looks like a drowned cat’s. The water goes right through you, you know._

Gabriel glanced up in time to catch Jesus’ eye, pulling a face as the man grinned at him. _Oh, shut up. Angel of Fire here. I hate water. The sooner we can land, the better._

Crowds tended to follow Jesus wherever he went. Some, Gabriel could see, were true believers, but most were just interested in the show. Wherever Jesus went, a spectacle was sure to follow. Even if Jesus himself didn’t do anything noteworthy (which in and of itself was noteworthy these days), at least one or two people in the crowd did.

Or rather, Gabriel made them make spectacles of themselves.

Life had become more bearable now that Jesus could see and speak with Gabriel. They often spoke during the day, and at night, Gabriel would slip into Jesus’ dreams to entertain the man with long theological discussions or just stories about Heaven. Jesus especially liked tales of Castiel, and he declared Joshua his favorite angel (or second favorite after Gabriel, so as not to be insulting). 

Even with Jesus’ attention, Gabriel was still frequently bored. Most of Jesus’ daily energy went toward the people who crowded around him, and constantly explaining and re-explaining himself to his disciples was absolutely mentally exhausting. Gabriel was mostly left to his own devices while Jesus preached or healed.

Big miracles were out of the question, but nobody said Gabriel couldn’t remind humanity of the powers of an avenging angel.

As Jesus preached, Gabriel read the souls of the crowd, seeking out people who had done the truly evil sins. He wasn’t looking for big things, like murder or theft. Those tended to be dealt with fairly well by humans themselves. No, Gabriel looked for the sins that society overlooked. Things like being unnecessarily harsh to your slaves, or unfaithful to your wife. Gabriel compelled liars to confess and infected the groins of adulterers with fleas. In one instance, he wrapped a spell around the hand of a man who would beat his horses so that every time he picked up a whip, his hand cramped in excruciating pain even before he could strike the first blow.

“Not bad.” A short man with eyes the color of old honey was watching Gabriel. Not Jesus, _Gabriel_. He had his chin propped on one hand, the elbow of that arm resting in his other hand, and he was giving the angel an appreciative nod. “I was tempted to do something to him myself, but I probably would have chopped off the hand entirely.”

“It will also cramp if he touches himself with it,” Gabriel said, cocking his head to the side as he studied the man. No, not a man. He glowed with an inner power—this was a tulpa. A strong tulpa, with a solid body and a mind of his own. He was well on his way to godhood, if he hadn’t already reached that point.

The tulpa threw back his head and laughed, a rich, hearty sound. “Perfect! I love it!”

“I know you,” Gabriel realized, pointing a finger at the tulpa. “We’d run together, in the northern forests. You were more sparkly back then.”

“I’ve gotten a bit more refined over the years.” The tulpa tugged his shirt straight and grinned at the angel. “On the other hand, you’ve gotten _more_ sparkly. What happened to the old man face?”

“Suros was just a vessel,” Gabriel explained. “This is my true form. I’m watching over him.” He nodded toward Jesus, standing on a small hill nearby to preach.

“I wondered why I could actually feel your weight in the world. I followed it here.”

“My weight?” Gabriel’s head tilted further to the side. “I don’t have a weight in this form. Without a vessel, I have no mass.”

“Tch!” The tulpa shook his head incredulously. “You can’t feel it? You’re bending the world around you. Like a rock dropped onto a sheet stretched taut. Your _power_ , it’s just…” The tulpa tapped the side of his head. “I feel you in here. Just picked up my feet and let myself roll down the world until I found you.”

“Ah.” Angels tended not to stay on Earth without vessels for long. Gabriel had never experimented to see how his unvesseled presence was experienced on Earth. If this tulpa could feel him from the northern continents, then that was just one more reason why escaping Heaven was an impossible dream. If the tulpa could feel him, certainly Raphael would be able to. “Did I bend the world like this when I was in the old man?”

The tulpa shook his head. “Absolutely not. Didn’t even recognize the power as _you_ at first, not until I got closer.”

Gabriel glanced up sharply at that. “So, in the human, my power was completely contained? If I have a vessel, I _don’t_ weigh down the world?”

“Don’t seem to,” the tulpa said with a shrug. “Could’ve changed. Do you have a vessel you could try on now? Did that old man die?”

Gabriel nodded. “Suros has gone on to Heaven, where he is finding eternal peace. I can’t leave Jesus to find a new vessel.”

“Does it have to be a certain person? Can’t you just… pick?” The tulpa waved toward the crowd with a little frown.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Gabriel said. “They have to be of a certain bloodline, directly descended from the first man I took as my vessel, Vindonnus.”

“Seriously? You and Vindonnus?” The tulpa whistled lowly. “Now _there’s_ a sparkly god!”

Gabriel smiled, glad to hear the tulpa that had been spawned by his repeated possession of the man was still alive. It was perhaps a little blasphemous to be so pleased with having created a god, but Vindonnus was hardly a threat to _God_. “Are you a god yet?”

“Not yet,” the tulpa sighed. “Don’t even have a _name_ yet. Someday. Someday, I’ll have a name.”

“And that’s when you’ve made it?”

The tulpa shook his head. “Nah, just having a name’s not enough. I mean, yeah, to most of my brethren, once they get a godly name, they’re good. But I know better’n that.”

“Oh?” Gabriel was intrigued. Most of these strong tulpas strove for a name, and from the name became pagan gods. He didn’t know that they could even conceive of anything more to achieve. He wasn’t even sure what more a tulpa _could_ achieve. Surely there was nothing greater than becoming a god!

“Immortality,” the tulpa said, a mischievous grin curving his lips. “ _True_ immortality. That’s what I want.”

“And what is true immortality?”

“Never being forgotten.” The tulpa punched a fist into his hand to emphasize each word. “I can be killed. All gods can be. They’ve all got some weakness or another… even the big ones, the old ones, like Kali or Osiris, or Zeus, they can _all_ be killed. But,” he held up one finger and raised his eyebrows pointedly, “ _but_ , as long as they’re not _forgotten_ , they can come back. As long as _one person_ worships them, they can be reborn as a new god. Once you’re a god, the only way you can _really_ die is to be forgotten.” He nodded emphatically. “I’m going to find a way to do that. I’d be willing to die if it meant I’d always be remembered.”

“Because death would only be temporary.” Gabriel studied the tulpa with new eyes. He looked like a man, but he radiated his own power. His body had to be stronger than a human’s, vulnerable only to what the humans believed for him. To humans, he could pass as a human, but an angel would immediately identify him as a tulpa. Once he was strong enough, he’d be seen as a pagan god and left alone, unless he was causing trouble.

“Exactly. I’d do anything to never be forgotten.”

“Would you give up your life?” Gabriel glanced over at Jesus. The man was still preaching. He cast out his grace but felt no close reply from a brother. No one was around to overhear.

“I just said I’d-”

“Not _die_ ,” Gabriel stressed, lowering his voice and stepping closer to the tulpa. “Would you _give up your life_? Hand your body over to another? They would see through your eyes, speak through your lips, move through your limbs. You’d… sleep. Forever. You’d only barely be aware of the passage of time, of the actions your body was doing without you. Would you give up your _life_ if I promised you your name would never be forgotten?”

“Can you actually do that?” the tulpa breathed, his eyes glowing gold with his desire. “Can you actually give me that immortality?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered honestly. “Hypothetically, if I could, would you give me your body to use as my own?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. “Make my name remembered forever, and my body is yours.”

The air around the tulpa shimmered, an all-too-familiar golden bridge jumping between his energy and Gabriel’s spirit. The angel gasped, jerking back in surprise. The tulpa jumped too, staring down at the link. “What is _that_!?”

“A conduit.” Gabriel reached up, hesitantly touching two fingers to the bridge. “You said yes. I can possess you. _I can possess you_!” He could feel the knowledge in his head, how he needed to fold his wings and pour his spirit to fill the tulpa. It was a loophole in God’s law. An angel needed a vessel on Earth.

A vessel did not need to be human.

Gabriel closed his hand into a fist and willed the link to break. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave Cariel, he couldn’t leave his choir, and he couldn’t leave Heaven. Just because there was a way out didn’t make the dream any less impossible.

The tulpa rubbed his chest ruefully, frowning at Gabriel. “Was that a good thing?”

“In a purely hypothetical situation, yes.” Gabriel sighed, his wings drooping. “It’s a dream I can never make true. Too much rests on my shoulders.”

“Ah.” The tulpa rubbed his chest once more before giving a shrug. “Well, if you ever change your mind, feel free to track me down. I’d love to make our dreams into reality.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel said with a little smile for the tulpa. “I won’t forget you. But please, don’t tell anyone else about this.”

The tulpa laughed. “You think I want to share my chance at getting immortality with those other idiots? What if you find one of them more to your liking? Then I lose out! Oh no, I won’t even _hint_ at your ability to possess me, oh Shining One.”

“Gabriel,” the angel said. “My name is Gabriel.”


	52. Feed My People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is realizing that Jesus isn’t long for this world.

### Feed My People

_They want me to feed them._

Gabriel cracked one eye open. He had been sunning himself while Jesus preached, but the day was drawing to a close and the crowd was growing restless. _So feed them._

_I don’t have enough food._

_So don’t feed them._ Gabriel closed his eyes and settled back against the grass behind Jesus. Problem solved.

_That’s not very generous._

_Why do you have to be generous?_

_Because I preach generosity!_

_Why don’t you preach thoughtfulness? Blessed are those who think ahead and bring their own supper, for their bellies will be full. But woe to you who were stupid and thought a full day out would include meals._

_You’re heartless._

Gabriel could feel Jesus’ smile in his mind even as the man scolded him. He just smiled back, spreading his arms. _Look at me, Jesus, and tell me where my heart is._ In his true form, he literally was heartless.

_I can’t just do nothing. They expect more than that._

Gabriel sighed, rolling onto his belly and propping his chin in his hands to look at Jesus. _What do you expect me to do? You’re the miracle-worker here._

_And you can’t even offer advice?_

_You’re the son of the Creator. Create._

_I can’t create from nothing!_

_Then find something._ Gabriel waved a hand toward the crowd. _They can’t all be so stupid as to have brought no food. Find someone who has food, and just… make it more._

Jesus sighed and beckoned for Simon Peter, his most solid of disciples, to come forth. They had a whispered conversation, and then Simon Peter was heading off to find someone with food.

Gabriel spread his wings and slumped back against the grass, letting his feathers soak in the sun’s heat. It was about as effective as the rain had been, but Gabriel preferred the knowledge that sunlight was streaming through his spirit instead of water. Sunlight was almost fire. It was familiar and comforting.

_Missed me?_

Just about as familiar and comforting as the slide of another angel’s grace against his own, and Cariel’s murmur in his mind. Gabriel smiled, purring his pleasure at his second’s company. _Immeasurably._ He rolled over, opening his eyes and reaching up to curl his arms around Cariel’s waist. “How goes Heaven without me?”

“Same as ever,” Cariel answered. “Michael terrifies the younger angels, when he’s seen at all. Raphael puffs up and shouts a lot. Barachiel learned a joke that honestly isn’t funny, but he laughs and laughs so hard after telling it that you can’t help but laugh too, and then he’s just convinced that it’s that much more hilarious and goes off to tell it to someone else. And you are missed, every day.”

“Jesus is making enemies right and left here,” Gabriel sighed. “Apparently, his way of driving me batty is to piss off every Pharisee he crosses paths with. At this rate, the entire system of Jewish elders are going to be calling for his blood!”

“But he’s got you.”

“For now.” Gabriel closed his eyes. “I don’t think he’s going to live a full life. These controversial prophets always die young.”

“Surely God won’t let them slaughter the one He calls His Son.”

“I’ve been doing some reading,” Gabriel said, carding his fingers through Cariel’s wings. He could barely feel the caress of Cariel’s spirit against his own. He _ached_ for a physical body again. “The prophets of old. I actually went back and looked at what they wrote. I think God will. ‘I will strike the shepherd,’“ he quoted, “‘and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’“

“Yes, but he’s got _you_. You won’t let anything happen to him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gabriel said, “but the will of God cannot be stopped. It really is a shame, though. Aside from the Pharisees thing, he’s my favorite prophet.”

“You just like him because he talks to you.”

“So?” Gabriel saw a green tinge creep through Cariel’s grace, and he had to smile. “Why Cariel, are you _jealous_?”

“I am not,” Cariel protested. “I just don’t like him.”

“Just as I don’t like Metatron?”

“Exac—shut up.” Cariel flapped his wings once and scowled, looking away.

Gabriel rolled them over so Cariel was beneath him, smiling down at his Seraph. “You know I love you best. No human, not even the Son of God, can change that.”

“Really?” Cariel asked.

“Really,” Gabriel answered, pressing his grace closer to Cariel’s.

 _Gabriel?_ Jesus’ voice slipped into Gabriel’s mind, and Cariel vanished. The Seraph never wanted to meet Jesus and always made a point of disappearing whenever the man’s attention was on Gabriel. _I think I made too much…_


	53. The End of His Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Jesus’ last day on Earth, and Gabriel just wants to help him die in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for posting the Easter story at Christmas, but that's how the chapters shook out! Have a wonderful holiday anyway!

### The End of His Days

It wasn’t fair! 

Of course, Gabriel was very aware that life was never fair, but somehow, this night felt especially unfair. He was an Archangel of the Lord, one of the most powerful beings in the entire universe, and he could do nothing to help his human friend except sit in the tree above him while he prayed and his friends slept. It just wasn’t fair!

“You’re upset.”

Jesus’ quiet voice called Gabriel away from his rant at the universe. The angel looked down at the man below him.

For three years now, Jesus had been teaching and preaching, with Gabriel always at his side. For three years, they had traveled throughout the country together, talking about God and the kingdom of Heaven. Every night, Gabriel settled down in Jesus’ dreams to speak with him about everything he knew, and every night, Gabriel felt that Jesus had somehow managed to teach _him_. The man had steadily grown in his own spirit, and his soul glowed calmly, a miniature supernova contained by the man’s iron control. Gabriel loved being near Jesus. It felt like being near God, but with none of the fear that Jesus would explode in world-ending wrath.

As Jesus had grown stronger, he had grown more attuned with Gabriel and the angels. He could spot an angel in a vessel with just a glance now, and Cariel had a harder time hiding from the man. He was also able to read Gabriel’s grace like an angel could, seeing the Archangel’s emotions.

“I don’t see why we can’t leave.” Gabriel swung his foot, his leg dangling over the side of the branch he lounged on. “There’s still plenty of time. I can get you out of here in one piece. If we leave now, I won’t even have to fly you. Your disciples would be able to come along too, idiots that they are.”

“They aren’t idiots,” Jesus said, looking toward his sleeping friends, slumped over each other just out of earshot. “They are men, pure men, with all the handicaps and advantages that come with that mortality. They don’t get angels on their shoulders explaining things.”

“And yet they can’t even stay awake one night with you.” Gabriel shook his head. He was fairly certain Jesus had picked some of the slowest, thickest humans around to follow him, but Jesus loved them despite their faults. “Let me _help_ you. That’s what I’m here for.”

“There is nothing more you can do for me. You warned me about Judas. Your task is over.”

“It’s not over until you’re dead, and you’re not dead yet.” Gabriel swung himself out of the tree, landing lightly on his feet and resting his hand on Jesus’ shoulder. “I can save you.”

Jesus sighed, bowing his head and closing his eyes again. “ _No_ , Gabriel. This is my task, which has been given to me by my Father. _Our_ Father.”

“You don’t want to die any more than I want you to die,” Gabriel argued. “Don’t try to lie to me. I can still read your soul.” Jesus smiled a little, shaking his head. “No, I don’t. But Father’s will must be done, not my own. However, I will not deny my fear. I don’t suppose you can do anything about that?”

Gabriel sat behind Jesus, curling his wings around the man and resting his head on Jesus’ shoulder. “I can’t take away your fear, but I can promise to stay with you. I can heal your wounds, take away your pain-”

“Don’t,” Jesus shook his head sharply. “Don’t heal me, Gabriel. I mean it. I need to die as a man.”

“Men die messy,” Gabriel pointed out. “Why must you die like that?”

“As I lived as a man, I must die as a man, so as to have the entire scope of man’s experience. A god who has not died cannot be victorious over death.”

“Some would argue that a god who has died has been defeated by death.” Gabriel paused for a moment. “Such as Death. He’d argue that.”

“Ah, but not if you die and come back to life. _That_ is the true victory.”

“No, not really. That just pisses Death off. Trust me. I’ve raised a few souls myself. Nothing better to make him mad.”

Jesus chuckled, leaning back against Gabriel. Despite the angel doing nothing to solidify his spirit for Jesus, Jesus still did not fall through him. “Nevertheless, I am still going to die. And then I will be restored to life and ascend into Heaven.”

“It’s not the death part that really upsets me,” Gabriel confessed. “I have it on good authority that death itself is painless, and you would go to Heaven anyway, where I could visit. It’s the dying bit I don’t like. Dying hurts, and your dying will hurt a _lot_. You’ve pissed off many people. They won’t let you have an easy death.”

“Then I will suffer for the good of the world.”

“I don’t _really_ think it works like that…”

Jesus closed his eyes and smiled. “Tell me about Heaven?”

_Heaven is a gloomy mess of confused angels. God’s presence is as frail and weak as the fluttering of butterfly wings against our spirits. Sammael’s tower crumbles to the south, and the whole realm feels lopsided, sinking into his absence. Heaven is constant squabbling and high walls, with gates kept locked half the time and maimed brothers hopefully looking to you for direction._

Gabriel tilted his head against Jesus’ and closed his eyes. Jesus did not want the truth. He wanted the story Gabriel always answered with. “Heaven is like the most brilliant summer’s day. The sky is always blue and the water is always clear. The Axis Mundi ripples through the realm, a glowing ribbon full of angels and their iridescent wings. The songs of the Host fill the air, praise to our Father and Creator, love for each other, for the Earth we cherish and the people we protect. Four glittering towers hold the sky above, one for each of the choirs, each of the Archangels. My tower stands to the west, an eternal flame, burning and dancing and consuming nothing. Raphael’s tower stands to the east, a twisting vortex, the power of wind with none of the destruction. To the south, Sammael’s spike of ice spears upward, always frozen, never freezing. In the north is the great tree of Michael’s tower, home to the oldest of angels.”

“Where does my Father live?” Jesus’ voice was sleepy, questioning Gabriel like a child who had heard this familiar story a thousand times over and knew exactly when to speak up.

Gabriel brushed his fingers over Jesus’ face, pushing his hair aside. “Your Father dwells in the great Garden in the very center of Heaven, where all the spokes of the Axis Mundi come together. The Garden is ringed by a fence, but it is not meant to keep anyone out. It simply indicates the boundaries of this most holy of places. Inside the Garden, trees and flowers of every size and color grow, and the air is perfumed with their vivid scents. Cherubim of Michael’s choir, the caretakers of Heaven, work in the Garden, led by Joshua, the greatest Cherub of them all.”

“Where does my Father live?” Jesus asked again, continuing the tradition they had set in place the very first time Gabriel had talked about Heaven.

Gabriel curled his arms around Jesus in an embrace. “Your Father dwells in His Throne Room, in the very center of Heaven, where all the spokes of the Axis Mundi come together. The walls are polished stone, and the doors heavy oak, carved with prayers and praise. Inside are the Thrones of Heaven, six massive chairs for you and your Father and all of the Archangels that ever were. Our thrones are black marble, with tall backs and curved arms. Yours and Father’s are white marble, streaked through with gold. Father’s stands above us all, and your throne is at His right hand, awaiting your arrival.”

“Where does my Father live?” Jesus asked for the third time, settling deeper against Gabriel. 

Gabriel lifted his hand to cup the man’s head, cradling him against his chest like a child. “Your Father lives in everything and everyone. In the smallest grain of sand from the desert, your Father lives. In the largest elephant that walks the forests, your Father lives. In the light of the sun and the height of the mountain, your Father lives. The smallest beggar child holds your Father in her heart, and so does the richest king. Your Father is in every star, every field, every breast. He lives in you, and He lives in me, and He lives in all our brethren. Wherever there is life, or light, or love, there is your Father.”

Jesus wasn’t asleep, but he was still in Gabriel’s arms. His eyes were closed and his chest moved with every deep breath, stealing some last moments of rest during this calm.

The storm broke less than an hour later. Gabriel felt the hostility of the crowd first, a wave of anger breaking over the garden wall. He nudged Jesus gently, prodding the man until he took a deep breath and sat up. “Is it time?”

“It’s not too late,” Gabriel offered hopelessly.

“No, angel.” Jesus patted Gabriel’s hand and pushed himself to his feet. “I must face my destiny.”

Gabriel hung back as Jesus went to wake his disciples. He knew what was going to happen next. He had sneaked a peek into the future when he first saw Judas behaving unscrupulously.

Judas would identify Jesus to the temple guards and elders, and a small scuffle would break out. Jesus calmed his followers and went willingly with the guards. Only Simon Peter would follow Jesus, but he would pretend not to know the man. The next day, the council of elders would judge Jesus and find him guilty, then take him to Pilate.

Just as Gabriel had foreseen, Pilate tried to get the crowd to release Jesus, but the hivemind would not be swayed. The Roman sentenced him to crucifixion, as the crowd wished, but walked away with a heavy heart.

“Your sins are forgiven,” Gabriel murmured to Pilate as the man walked past him. “His death will not be on your hands when your day of judgment comes.”

During all of Jesus’ trials and travels, the man was mocked and scorned. Every time Gabriel stepped forward to try to stop the humiliation, Jesus caught his eye and gave a firm shake of his head. _No help._ The angel clenched his hands into fists and bit at the corner of his mouth, forcing himself to stay put. His wings beat in agitation, but aside from stirring up some hot breezes, they did not affect the mortals around him.

As Jesus was taken up the road to Golgotha, a voice in the crowd whispered Gabriel’s name. The angel turned, frowning, trying to see who had called out to him. There. Mary. The mother of Jesus.

The crowd parted around Gabriel without realizing he was present. He made his way to Mary’s side and curved a wing around her shoulders. “I am here.”

“You promised you’d take away my pain if I said yes,” Mary whispered into her clasped hands. “Please, Gabriel, please make it stop hurting.”

“Oh Mary.” Gabriel drew the woman into his arms even though she could not see or hear him, trying to press as much love into her grieving soul as he could without lifting his veil. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” 

Mary wept into Gabriel’s wings as the crowd swept them up the hill. Her wails reached their peak when Jesus was actually nailed to the cross and lifted it up, but then, to Gabriel’s surprise, they tapered away. Mary wiped at her face, though she did not stop weeping, and lifted her chin. “He never was mine, was he?” she asked. “He always was meant for God. As the Lord has given me, so too He takes away. Gabriel, if you can hear me, please go to _him_. Take away his pain, not mine. He may need to die today, but he does not need to die in pain.”

“That, I _can_ do.” Gabriel pressed a kiss to Mary’s forehead before he stepped through the crowd and approached Jesus. He reached out, curling his hands around Jesus’ legs. Above him, the man cracked his eyes open and looked down at the angel.

_Don’t heal me._

“I’m not.” Gabriel concentrated, picking out the pain and drawing it out of Jesus’ soul. He carefully cauterized the man’s ability to feel pain at all, permanently removing it. Jesus was going to die today. He didn’t need to feel pain ever again.

The man sighed in relief, his body sagging on the cross as his pain evaporated. _I’m supposed to suffer._

“You already have,” Gabriel argued. “Let me show you some of Heaven’s infamous mercy. Any other complaints?”

 _Hot._ Jesus lifted his head to squint toward the sun. _Would you darken the sun for me?_

Gabriel lifted one hand and snapped his fingers. A shadow fell over the sun, blanketing the Earth in darkness. The crowd gasped, a low susurrus of sound buzzing up from the spectators.

Jesus’ chin fell onto his chest as he gave a croaking laugh. _That wasn’t meant to be a serious request. I thought you weren’t a miracle worker._

“It’s your last hours,” Gabriel shot back. “I’ve watched you show off all these years. Now it’s my turn.”

Gabriel stood at Jesus’ feet for three hours, banishing the man’s hunger and thirst, trying to make him as comfortable as possible while hanging from a cross of wood. All Jesus was left with was his own fatigue, a bone-deep weariness that Gabriel could not mask or remove. Finally, Jesus lifted his head, smiling at Gabriel briefly, before looking up into the dark sky. “Father,” he cried, in a surprisingly loud voice for his exhaustion, “into your hands, I commend my spirit!”

As the words echoed through the crowd, repeated for those in the back who hadn’t heard the show, Jesus’ entire body sagged again, his head lolling forward. Gabriel watched a pretty young Reaper step back, a bright soul in her hands. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Gabriel turned away. Jesus was dead.


	54. Goodbye, Jesus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s still one more miracle to do for Jesus, and Gabriel’s back in a vessel. So is Cariel.

### Goodbye, Jesus

The soft flutter of angel wings filled the small tomb. Gabriel opened his eyes and smiled. “Hello, Cariel.”

“It’s been three days.” Cariel approached Gabriel hesitantly before placing his hand on the Archangel’s back. “When will you come home?”

Gabriel closed his eyes again at the touch, sucking in a breath. Contact, _physical contact_ , felt so new and strange to him again. He was in his first vessel in thirty-three years, feeling pinched and constrained, but he could also smell the decay in the air and feel the cool dark across his skin. The inside of this tomb felt like the grief that tugged at his heart, but Cariel’s warm hand against his back was the promise of Heaven, and being reunited with his human friend.

“Soon,” Gabriel promised Cariel. “I have one more task to do here, for which I needed a vessel, and then I may return to Heaven.”

“May?” Cariel asked, always catching the littlest things.

Gabriel rose to his feet and turned to face his Seraph. Cariel was also envesseled. For once, he was actually shorter than Gabriel. “I’ve had thirty years without Raphael. I can’t deny that Earth has been relaxing.”

“You’ve been bored out of your mind!” Cariel’s hand brushed along Gabriel’s arm, and Gabriel touched his hands to Cariel’s chest, eager for more contact. “Every time I came down to Earth, you complained about having nothing to do.”

“I’d been tied to Jesus. He didn’t exactly go to exciting locations,” Gabriel argued. “I’m not restrained anymore. I can go anywhere I’d like, do anything I want.”

“So you want to stay on Earth?” Somehow, Cariel had managed to push even closer to Gabriel.

“I want to stay in a vessel.” Gabriel eased one hand free from between them, skimming his fingers along the side of Cariel’s face. Cariel closed his eyes, his fingers curling around Gabriel’s bicep. “It’s been so long since I could _touch_.”

“I shouldn’t stay with you.” Cariel turned his face into Gabriel’s hand, opening his dark eyes slowly and looking up at the Archangel. “The choir needs at least one of us.”

 _Damn the choir. Let’s run while we’re already on Earth…_ Gabriel wondered if that tulpa had acquired a name yet, or if he had a friend Cariel could slip into. If they could leave while Raphael and Michael assumed them to be on Earth fulfilling their duties, then they could get a head start over the Archangels and maybe could evade recapture…

But Barachiel was waiting in Heaven, and all of his other Seraphim, Dominions, Angels, and Cherubim. Gabriel could not in good conscience leave them. They still needed him. He still loved them. He wouldn’t run. Gabriel sighed with this revelation, dropping his head to rest his forehead against Cariel’s. “There is one more thing I need to do here, today, I think, and then I can return to Heaven.”

“What is it?”

Gabriel tapped Cariel’s nose and drew away, turning to face Jesus’ body. He looked down at the corpse one last time before snapping his fingers, removing it from existence. The shroud and bandages that had covered the man’s body fluttered down to rest on the rock below. “A miracle.”

When the women came, Gabriel was sitting on the rock that had sealed the tomb, now pushed aside. Cariel sat beside him. Both were dressed in white, veiled from the humans. Gabriel touched his finger to his lips and slipped off the stone, sneaking up behind the women. Cariel followed, completely poker-faced.

The women cried out when they realized Jesus’ body was gone, grabbing the shroud and sifting through the bandages as if his body had simply flattened or shrank. Gabriel caught Cariel’s eye and nodded. Both unveiled, stretching the shadows of their wings along the walls of the tomb.

“Why are you looking for a living man here, in a tomb for the dead?”

Mary, the mother of one of Jesus’ disciples, and Joanna, another woman who had traveled with them for a bit, both screamed at the sudden appearance of the angels. Mary Magdalene, one of Jesus’ favorite women, managed to retain her composure, dropping to her knees and bowing to the pair. The other women quickly followed her lead.

Gabriel touched Mary Magdalene’s shoulder, encouraging her to rise to her feet, and Cariel did the same for Joanna. When all the women were standing again, though they continued to avert their faces, Gabriel spoke again. “Jesus is not here. He has risen. Remember how he told you this would happen, back in Galilee? He would be handed over to sinners, crucified, and on the third day, come back from the dead.”

Mary Magdalene gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. Clearly _she_ remembered.

“Go,” Gabriel said, gesturing toward the entrance to the tomb. “He is not here. Tell the others. The Lord has risen.”

Mary fled the tomb first, with the other women hot on her heels. Cariel turned to Gabriel with a raised eyebrow. “The Lord has risen?” he parroted.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Dad’s words, not mine.”

“But he hasn’t risen. You removed his body.”

“I just did what I was told,” Gabriel said with a shrug. “I trust that Dad will either give Jesus a new body or severely disappoint those women.”

“Which do you think will happen?”

Gabriel was silent for a minute, picking up the shroud and rubbing the linen between his fingers. “New body,” he finally answered. “He was slowly transforming over the course of his life into something not quite human. Something much more celestial.”

“An angel?” Cariel asked, watching Gabriel intently. “A God?”

Gabriel heard the capital G and smiled a little before turning to give Cariel another shrug. “I have no idea. I don’t presume to understand Dad’s thinking. Jesus was special, that’s all I know.”

Cariel held out his hands, and Gabriel took them. “What now?” the Seraph asked, squeezing Gabriel’s fingers lightly.

“Now? Now, I suppose we can go home.”

The angels stopped by the home of Cariel’s vessel first, leaving the man behind, before flying north to leave Gabriel’s back with his people. Free of their human forms, they leapt up into the sky, flying together through the planes.


	55. Knights of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading back to Heaven isn’t so easy when demons have camped out in the world between realms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm visiting family today, so while I will try to get the next chapter up tonight, it may be late. If that's the case, you'll get three tomorrow!

### Knights of Hell

“Hello, Gabriel, Cariel. Did you have a pleasant stay on Earth? It must have been nice to have a chance to get… physical.”

Gabriel and Cariel never made it to Heaven. They were stopped just inside the fragile Borderlands by an all-too-familiar demon. Yellow eyes glittered over a mocking smile. Azazel. Behind him, surrounding the walls of Heaven, stood a legion of demons, all armed with silver weapons. Demons didn’t often make it this far, but there were spells and rituals that could open the Borders to all types of creatures. Raphael’s guards knew this the best. The flickering, shifting light Gabriel could make out on the ramparts of Heaven’s walls indicated that they were patrolling, holding the border. 

Gabriel growled at the fallen angel, his sword sliding into his hand. “So nice to see you out in the open, Azazel. Makes killing you easier.”

“It _would_ ,” Azazel agreed, leaning toward Gabriel and touching two fingers to the Archangel’s blade, “ _if_ you actually could.” 

Gabriel lunged forward, his sword singing through the empty greyness, but Azazel ducked and melted into smoke, streaking off through the gathered demons.

“Coward,” Gabriel snarled after him.

Cariel coughed delicately into his hand. “Er, Gabriel?” When the Archangel looked back at him, Cariel nodded to the other demons. The closest were turning their way, malevolent smirks curling the corners of their mouths. “None of these were here when I left. We may be a tiny bit outnumbered.” He stepped closer to Gabriel, drawing his own sword.

“I’m almost more scared of you holding a sword than them,” Gabriel teased, trying to keep Cariel’s mood up even as he shifted closer to his lieutenant. “When was the last time you fought anything?”

“I can fight!” Cariel protested, putting his back against Gabriel’s as the demons slowly started to move around them, surrounding the pair. “I fought against the… dragons?”

“Before the war?” Gabriel shifted his stance, his gaze traveling from one demon to the next. “Cariel, that was centuries ago! You’ve spent most of those years behind a desk. You’re out of practice.”

“And you aren’t?” Cariel retorted. “When was the last time you fought?”

“Nephilim,” Gabriel answered. “And Lucifer.”

“You didn’t fight for long; you ran. That doesn’t count!”

“Counts enough!” Gabriel shot back. “Besides, unlike you, I kept up my skills.”

“When?” the Seraph scoffed. “I never saw you practicing with your sword.”

“Days on Earth were long and boring before Jesus realized I was there.”

“Gabriel?” Cariel’s wings twitched against the Archangel’s. “I think I recognize these demons.” 

There was a genuine thread of concern in Cariel’s voice now, enough for Gabriel to glance back at his Seraph. Cariel nodded slowly at one. “That’s Armen. And over there is Kael. These are the fallen angels, Azazel’s traitors.”

“Well… shit.” Gabriel slowly spread his wings, preparing to ignite if necessary. “This might actually be tricky.” _Michael? Raphael? Have you noticed the demons on your doorstep?_

The last question was sent silently through the mental connection Gabriel shared with the Archangels. Michael’s answer came quickly. _We are aware of them, and you. Be careful, Gabriel. Raphael’s garrisons have not been able to hurt these demons. They have been surrounding us for several hours now._

_Are the gates open? Cariel and I can fold into Heaven if you can give us an opening._

_You cannot._ Raphael this time. _The demons all have sigils with them. No one can fold past them. We are corralled inside Heaven just as surely as you are stuck outside._

“Shit,” Gabriel muttered again. Cariel’s grace touched against his.

_On a scale of one to screwed, how badly are we screwed?_

_They can’t be hurt and we can’t dash past them._

“So, screwed then?” Cariel twisted his wings, bringing out the razor sharp edges of his feathers.

 _If we can break past their line, we can get into Heaven, but we’ll be stuck there._ Gabriel reached out to the Archangels as he shook his own wings, spreading fire through his feathers. _Can you get the western gate open if we make a run for it?_

 _We’re already there,_ Michael answered. _We’ll try to stage a distraction here to give you some sort of opening._

Gabriel reached behind him, grabbing at Cariel’s free hand. _Fly to the western gate, as hard as you can. They’ll try to open it for us if we can get close._

Cariel squeezed Gabriel’s hand back. “On three?”

“Three!”

The angels leapt toward Heaven in unison, wings and swords slashing into the nearest demons. As soon as they started to move, the demons reacted, exploding toward the angels with unearthly screeches and screams of their own. A sword slipped past Gabriel’s grace, biting deep into his left arm. The Archangel snarled and yanked away from the demon, pulling the weapon from his grasp and plunging his own into the demon’s face. It howled, crackling orange as it died. Gabriel didn’t have time to feel bad over killing a creature that had once been one of his brothers. He had to keep moving.

Cariel wasn’t having any success of his own. His sword connected with the demons, but after a moment of resistance, it passed straight through their bodies as harmlessly as if he were slicing a river. After several useless swings, Cariel sheathed his own sword and just raced after Gabriel. His wings sliced through the demons, but they reformed in his wake, jeering and taunting him as they swarmed after.

“Gabriel!”

Cariel shouted Gabriel’s name as a demon’s sword caught him at the root of one of his wings. He stumbled through the greyness, hissing in pain.

There was only one last line of demons before their ranks were broken through, but Gabriel whirled around, turning his back on safety in order to return to Cariel’s side. His sword neatly severed a demon’s head from his shoulders, while his flaming wings swept around the Seraph, scorching the demons and driving them back. “Can you fly?”

“I think so…” Cariel pushed himself back upright, wincing as he tested his injured wing.

Gabriel seized his elbow, supporting him as best he could. “We’re almost through, Cariel. Just a little further.”

Wind roared through the Borderlands, and Gabriel’s flames streamed away from him in the sudden gale. Weather was unnatural here, which could only mean one thing. Behind Gabriel, Raphael howled along with his storm, swinging two long knives around him in a whirlwind of destruction. Michael flashed through the hoard, appearing and vanishing in that flickering, end-state-only method of moving he’d adopted, a line of dying demons sparking red and orange tracing his passage through the hoard. Around the two Archangels, Seraphim and their choirs charged the demons, heavenly battle cries echoing through the greyness.

“For the Glory of God!”

“For the Kingdom of Heaven!”

The rush of angels drove back the demons, but Gabriel didn't trust the respite to last long. He curled his arm around Cariel and pushed against the wind, hurtling them both toward Heaven. Cariel folded his wings in tight and clutched Gabriel, letting the more powerful angel carry them both.

Gabriel plowed through the open western gate, tumbling to an ungraceful landing on the Axis Mundi just inside the walls. He could hear Raphael calling a retreat and didn't bother to get up. As angels swarmed back into Heaven around him and Healers rushed in to treat the wounded, Gabriel remained a crumpled pile of feathers and stillness.

 _Gabriel?_ Cariel's grace touched his own, threaded through with a barely-restrained panic. _Were you wounded? Gabriel?_

 _I'm unhurt,_ Gabriel answered, just as his arm twinged in reminder of the stab. _Mostly. I'm merely indulging in a moment of self-pity._

Cariel fell silent, though his hands did worm through the mass of Gabriel's wings to press close to the Archangel's core. _They weren't our brothers anymore,_ he murmured into Gabriel's mind.

Gabriel closed his eyes and pressed his face into Cariel's wings. _You always know what I need to hear._ He had killed demons today, but those demons had been his brothers once. Seraphim, Angels, and Dominions he had once shared the skies with. Some had helped him on Sammael’s orders, millennia ago. Some had been partners to some of his own choir. They had been angels, family, beloved by Heaven, and now they were dead at his hand.

 _I know **you**._ Cariel stroked the back of his fingers along Gabriel’s throat, pressing through his grace to pet his core. _Our brothers died long ago. Those were merely echoes, faded parodies of what they had once been. You killed demons today, Gabriel, not angels._

The flat of a blade tapped against one of Gabriel’s wings. “Are you injured?” Raphael tapped Gabriel again. “If not, get up. Earth has made you lazy.”

“And if I were?” Slowly, Gabriel lifted and folded his wings, pushing off the ground and helping Cariel to his feet. The Seraph looked a bit ruffled from being squashed beneath Gabriel, and one of his wings dragged along the ground, but he otherwise seemed unhurt. “I _am_ injured, Raphael. See?” Gabriel held out his arm, showing his brother the stab through the middle.

Raphael gave Gabriel a flat look and flicked his fingers against the cut, healing it instantly. “Even you could have done that yourself.”

“Cariel’s actually hurt.” Gabriel pointed at his Seraph with his freshly-healed arm. “Heal him.”

“Another healer can tend to your Seraph.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “ _Heal_ him, Raphael.”

Cariel looked between the Archangels warily, turning his back away from Raphael. “Really, Gabriel, it’s fine…”

Behind Cariel, Marmoniel huffed impatiently and laid her hands on Cariel’s injured wing. “They’ll attempt to outglare each other until Michael interrupts,” she muttered, just loud enough for Gabriel to hear. “Heaven ran so much _smoother_ when they were apart.”

“Don’t say that,” Cariel snapped back at Marmoniel.

“I was merely stating a fact. The past thirty years have been more-”

“Don’t you two start.” Michael was suddenly beside Cariel and Marmoniel, cleaning demon blood from his long sword. His huge wings were open, blanketing the sky. “It’s bad enough your Archangels can’t stand in the same room without fighting. If you start emulating them, I’ll need to take drastic measures.”

Gabriel reached out to snag Cariel's arm and pull him behind his wings. “Thank you, Michael, for distracting the demons.”

Michael's sword vanished, his arms held straight at his sides. “Raphael, Gabriel, come with me to Raphael's tower.”

“Why Raphael's?” Gabriel asked.

“Because Raphael's is equipped to discuss war tactics.” The words came from Michael's throat, but the angel did not move. It was like listening to a statue speak. “Marmoniel, take your healers and tend to the injured from most to least severely wounded. Naomi, compile a list of the newly deceased.”

Marmoniel and Naomi both bowed to the Archangel and turned to call to their Dominions. Raphael spread his wings, preparing for flight.

Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Cariel. Since when could Michael order Marmoniel around? Sure, technically, Michael oversaw _every_ angel in Heaven, but as Raphael's second, Marmoniel was only obligated to answer to him, just as Cariel wouldn't answer to anyone but Gabriel.

Instead of returning Gabriel's confused look, Cariel glanced away, his wings lowered submissively. Something was wrong here. Realization flashed through Gabriel's grace, followed by a hot anger, and he whirled on the other Archangels with his wings spread aggressively. “What have you been _doing_?” If even _one_ of them had tried to order Cariel around while Gabriel was out, there'd be a reckoning.

All around them, the gathered angels were surreptitiously watching. Gabriel could feel his younger brothers' eyes on him, watching, wondering, fearing the worst.

 _Not here._ Raphael narrowed his eyes, speaking over the Archangel channel. _Not in front of the Host._

_Fly with us, Gabriel. We can discuss the changes to Heaven privately._

Cariel's fingers crept up Gabriel's back, curling around one of his major wings. “Gabriel, it's not…”

Gabriel turned to look at Cariel again, touching his grace to his second's so he could speak directly into his lieutenant's mind. _Did they take over my choir in my absence?_

 _No!_ Cariel answered quickly. _They… gave some orders, yes, but they always allowed our choir our autonomy. Neither of them attempted to be you._

_They shouldn't have given you **any** orders! You're mine!_

_Gabriel._ Michael's voice was deep inside Gabriel, power and impatience rolling through his name. _Come with us. Now._ His wings flashed out, and then Michael was gone. Raphael frowned at Gabriel before following.

Gabriel looked back at Cariel one more time before snapping his wings up and launching himself after his brothers. They needed to talk.


	56. He is not Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael’s grown even more annoying in Gabriel’s absence, and Gabriel needs to put him back in his place. Michael is not amused.

### He is Not Yours

Raphael’s war room was right below his office, and it was already littered with maps and diagrams. Michael and Raphael stood side by side, their wings lightly brushing, heads bowed together over a central table that currently bore a map of Heaven and the immediately surrounding Borderlands. More maps littered the tables around the edges of the room and hung from the walls. The walls themselves were entirely translucent, but Gabriel knew the view was one-way only. No one outside this room could see in, but from his war room, Raphael could oversee all of Heaven. Various small desks tucked out of the way were left in disarray, their occupants having clearly fled and fled quickly when the Archangels sought privacy here.

Gabriel landed on the western side of the table, his back to his own tower. He had only been in this room once or twice in the billions of years it had existed. This room was Raphael’s innermost sanctum, more so than his own office. To work here was to work in the very heart of the Healer. 

Raphael glanced up as Gabriel materialized, but dismissed the other Archangel to turn back to the map. His hands flew over the lines, sketching shapes, guiding miniature angels around the Borderlands. Michael said nothing, but Gabriel could see his grace entwined with Raphael’s. They were speaking silently, mind to mind.

Gabriel slammed his hands down on the table, accidentally crushing a miniature garrison and a squad of little demons. “You gave orders to Cariel in my absence.”

“Someone had to,” Raphael answered, flicking his fingers at Gabriel’s hand to rescue the crushed angels.

“No! No one _had_ to! Cariel is _my_ lieutenant! _I_ command him, not you!”

“You were on Earth, unaware of everything except the life of your precious human. You _couldn’t_ have directed your choir.”

“He wasn’t my precious human, he was our Father’s! I was obeying His orders!”

“Regardless, _you weren’t here._ “

“Draw your swords.” Michael interrupted the argument without lifting a finger. “Both of you. Right here, right now. Draw your swords and fight to the death.”

Both Gabriel and Raphael turned as one to stare at Michael. “Are you legitimately insane?” Gabriel finally asked. “You want us to try to kill each other?”

“I give you permission. When one of you is victorious, I will stand before God and testify that the other’s death was entirely because of me. Now fight.”

“With all due respect, Michael, that is a ridiculous idea,” Raphael said slowly. “Especially now, with the enemy at our gates. We can’t afford to destroy each other now.”

Michael’s arms were now folded, and he was surveying both of the twins. “You won’t do it?”

“No!” Gabriel protested. “I’m not about to _kill_ him-”

“Then _stop fighting._ “ Michael’s eyes were narrowed. “If it’s not worth killing the other over, it’s not worth fighting over, not now, when, as Raphael so astutely remembered, we are besieged by the true enemy.”

Gabriel looked away from Raphael, gritting his teeth to keep from saying anything further. He could feel Raphael’s agitation seething across the table.

Michael’s heavy sigh weighed down the entire room. “Gabriel, things have changed while you were away. Things _had_ to change. Yes, we gave Cariel some orders, fully aware he was still _your_ lieutenant and part of _your_ choir-”

“You ordered him not to tell me.” Gabriel interrupted Michael, his voice quiet. “Cariel would have immediately told me if you were issuing orders, but one of those orders was a gag. You ordered my second to keep information from me.”

“Yes.” Michael’s voice was unashamed. “We did. You were on a mission from God. If you knew we were filling your gap, you would have thrown a fit and tried to come rushing back before you were freed.”

“Why are you making such a big deal about this?” Raphael demanded. “Neither Michael nor I berated you when you ordered _our_ choirs around.”

“That was different!”

“How?”

“The two of you were physically incapable of attending to your duties!”

“As were you!”

“I could attend to them from Earth, with Cariel as my proxy in Heaven!”

Michael cleared his throat, his shadowy eyes narrowed in a dark glare aimed at both the twins. Gabriel forced his mouth shut, curling his fingers against the map table.

Raphael was not so easily silenced. “The real problem is that we gave Cariel orders which he obeyed, isn’t it, Gabriel? Your real offense with this is that you can’t pretend Cariel will only listen to you now, that he is _yours_ to his very core, with no other allegiances. You can’t pretend that he’ll genuinely turn his back on Heaven to run away with you. _That’s_ why you’re upset. It’s not that _we_ gave Cariel orders. It’s that _he_ obeyed.”

Gabriel slowly lifted his head to stare at Raphael as his twin’s words struck too close to home. Gabriel had known his brothers would have tried to step in in his absence. That was precisely why he’d left Cariel in charge and tried to keep his hands off things so as not to undermine the Seraph. He had _prepared_ for them to give orders… but he had assumed Cariel would immediately report back to him when that happened. Cariel hadn’t. Cariel had followed the orders given to him, and in the process of doing so, had betrayed Gabriel. It wasn’t a serious betrayal, and Gabriel was certain Cariel would apologize as soon as they had a private moment together, but still. Cariel had always put Gabriel first, above everything else, above Heaven itself. Now, Gabriel had proof that he hadn’t. If Cariel had a stronger loyalty here, what was stopping him from having a stronger loyalty about other things?

About running away? How could Raphael have even known Gabriel and Cariel had talked of running to Earth? No one else had been in that room. No one else could have overheard.

“Cariel isn’t _yours_ ,” Raphael said, his grace smugly swirling around his form. “He belongs to the Host. To _us_.”

Gabriel launched across the table before he even realized he had given the order to his wings. A fireball summoned to his hand was driven into Raphael’s smirking face. Gabriel tackled Raphael to the ground with a scream of outrage, pummeling him with his flaming wings. Raphael hissed and fought back, a fierce wind tangling in Gabriel’s feathers and dragging him back, blocking his blows. Fingers sharpened into claws struck out against the side of Gabriel’s face, and Gabriel drove his knee into Raphael’s stomach.

A strong hand curled around the nape of Gabriel’s neck, and he found himself flung into the far wall. Raphael was thrown away from him, crashing into the wall opposite. Michael stood in the middle, arms and wings outstretched, pure fury crackling through his grace.

“Gabriel.” Michael’s voice was colder than even Lucifer’s, with his icy core, ever had been. “ _Go_. Return to your tower and await further instructions.”

“But he-”

“ _NOW_ , Gabriel!” Michael slashed Gabriel’s name across his grace, disappointment, anger, and command thrown behind the word. Gabriel shut his eyes and spread his grace, folding himself through Heaven.

Cariel was sitting in Gabriel’s chair, staring blankly at the center of the desk. He jumped when Gabriel materialized in the room, hastily shoving the Archangel’s chair back to get to his feet. “Gabriel! You’re… you’re hurt!” He crossed the room in two quick strides, his fingers skimming along the scratches on Gabriel’s face.

Gabriel turned away from the gentle touch, closing his eyes again. “Cariel, I need…”

“Anything,” Cariel answered immediately, dropping his hand to Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel felt sick, his grace crawling where Cariel was touching him. Cariel had _lied_ to him. “I need you to go,” he whispered, taking Cariel’s wrist and gently pulling his hand away from his shoulder. “I need you not here right now.”

Cariel stepped back, his grace reflecting the horror that shone through his face. “What did they say to you, Gabriel? What did they _do_?”

“Please, just go.” Gabriel turned away, his wings folded in tight against his back. _Don’t look at me like that, Cariel. Don’t make it hurt worse._ “I need to be alone right now.”

Gabriel could feel the ripple as Cariel reached for him and hesitated, could sense Cariel’s grace shifting around him as the Seraph silently turned and slipped out through the door. It shut behind him with barely a _click_ , and Gabriel sagged against his desk, clutching at his head with both hands. Why did this have to happen? Why now? Why like this?


	57. Calming Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who calms the Archangel when he’s avoiding his lieutenant? Barachiel to the rescue!

### Calming Down

Gabriel was interrupted from his self-pity by a soft tap on the door. There was a Seraph's grace just outside, but it was all bubbly curves and light, not Cariel's sharper edges at all. Barachiel's. Gabriel debated ignoring him, curling his knees up tighter against his chest. He had tucked his chin against them and wrapped himself in his wings. If he pretended hard enough, he could just about imagine his older brothers sitting behind him, wrapping him in their soft feathers and singing gently into his mind.

“Gabriel? I know you're in there.”

Barachiel wasn't good at being ignored. Gabriel sighed and flicked his hand at the door, letting it swing open. Barachiel crept in, and Gabriel closed the door with another brush of two fingers through the air.

“Car-ah, I heard you'd been hurt.” Barachiel smiled gently as he approached Gabriel's desk. “I figured sending for one of Raphael's healers would be fairly stupid, not to mention unfairly cruel to the unfortunate one who came here, so I thought I might lend some grace. It's amazing what one can pick up when recovering in Raphael's tower without ever needing to swear allegiance to that little prick.”

 _Prick._ That was about as foul-mouthed as Barachiel ever got. Gabriel huffed a laugh against his knees. “Don’t insult him, Barach. It doesn't suit you.”

“If he upset you, he deserves it.” Barachiel's conviction rang through his words, his loyalty to Gabriel a brilliant gleam in his grace. “If he _hurt_ you, he doesn't deserve clean epithets.”

“Why do you assume Raphael was the one who hurt me?”

“Because only your partner can truly hurt your heart.” Barachiel rocked onto his toes, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Six thin wings, still too fragile to bear his spirit, fluttered gently from the movement. He looked delicate and uncertain, ready to fly if Gabriel got mad at him. “Cariel is my best friend. I can forgive him nearly any hurtful thing he says, because I know he doesn't truly mean it. But Zachariah is my partner, and when he says something horrible, I just shrivel inside, because I know he _does_ mean it.” Barachiel took several tiny steps closer to Gabriel. “You love Michael, and you will forgive him anything, but you know when Raphael lashes out at you, he speaks truthfully.”

“Why are you the wisest one in my choir?” Gabriel asked quietly, closing his eyes.

“Because no one else wanted the job?” Barachiel's fingers brushed gently across Gabriel's head. “Let me see your injury, Gabriel. _Did_ Raphael hurt you?”

“Of course he did,” Gabriel finally admitted, lifting his head and turning his scratched cheek toward the Seraph. “To be fair, I got him worse with a fireball first.”

“Good for you.” Barachiel smiled at Gabriel, murmuring a spell as he drew his fingers down the first cut. Gabriel could feel a tingle as Barachiel used his own grace to regrow Gabriel's torn spirit. “But why a fireball first?”

Gabriel sighed. “He said things about Cariel. About me. Things that were,” the Archangel sighed a little, smiling bitterly, “too true.”

“Ah.” Barachiel's fingers moved to the next scratch and he repeated the incantation, drawing his fingers down the injury. “Things that happened while you were on Earth?”

“Yes.” Gabriel's face felt better already, but his heart was still heavy. “Cariel was obeying his orders, all of them.”

“They were mostly Michael's orders,” Barachiel commented lightly. “And mostly because we were discouraged from visiting Earth.”

“Discouraged?”

Barachiel nodded solemnly. “Raphael believes the frequency of our trips through the Borderlands between Heaven and Earth is weakening its fabric. He's concerned that if it's destroyed again, it won't be repairable next time.”

“But… we _did_ fix it.” Gabriel remembered the endless days of weaving the stuff of the Borderlands across the Void with Raphael, filling in the gap with the essence of substance.

“Where did you get the thread you fixed it with?” Barachiel asked quietly, lifting his fingers and moving to the last cut. “From the rest of the Borderlands. You had to thin areas already existing to repair the hole.”

Gabriel hadn't bothered to ask Raphael how he had known to fix the Borderlands, or where he had drawn the raw material from. He winced, remembering how many times he had callously torn open gates instead of properly flying between the realms. How many times had Raphael patched over the damage _he_ had caused?

“I'm sorry,” Barachiel said, hastily lifting his fingers at Gabriel's wince. “I guess that one must be deeper than the others…”

“No, you're doing a fine job, Barach. I'm just… but Cariel visited me frequently! He could have said something!”

“He was forbidden.”

“Forbidding Cariel never actually stopped him from doing something before.”

“Forbidding him from seeing you?” Barachiel touched his fingers back to the last cut on Gabriel's cheek. “Raphael said the only way he would allow Cariel to pass between the realms as often as he did was if Cariel kept you from erupting by not telling you we'd been turning to Raphael and Michael in your absence. He said if Cariel ever disobeyed, he'd consider it an act of treason and have Cariel hunted down and executed.”

Gabriel closed his fingers around Barachiel's wrist, opening his eyes slowly. “Raphael threatened to _kill_ Cariel?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I don't think he actually would.” Barachiel wasn't smiling as he met Gabriel's eyes. “I think he only said it to impress the seriousness of his command on Cariel. You _do_ have a tendency to erupt, like the volcanoes that mimic your core.”

Gabriel shoved Barachiel's arm away, pushing to his feet and storming over to the eastern window in his office. From here, he could make out Raphael's tower just on the horizon, and he slammed his fist against the glass. “He oversteps his bounds.”

“Raphael was showing extreme lenience and understanding,” Barachiel argued quietly. “He _did_ allow Cariel to visit you, in the end. I haven't been to Earth in centuries, Gabriel, and my garrisons are the most active there. The angels on Earth now haven't seen Heaven in half a century. Cariel was the _only one_ allowed to fly freely between the realms, because Raphael knew he was important to you.”

“Still-”

“Still, if the Borderlands truly are being eroded by our trips, perhaps you should be grateful Raphael and Michael took steps to not cut you off entirely while still doing everything they could to preserve the passage in the event of emergencies.” Barachiel ducked his head, his delicate wings pressed tight against his back. “I'm sorry, Gabriel. I just… understood their logic, so I didn't complain. I-”

“It's all right, Barachiel.” Gabriel let his arm drop, his own wings drooping. “You have a point. _They_ had a point.” _But Raphael knew. He knew I wanted to leave. He knew I wanted to leave with Cariel. And Michael didn't seem surprised._ Somehow, Raphael had once again learned things, private things, that had been shared between Gabriel and Cariel alone. Raphael had all but admitted he had spies in Gabriel’s choir once… but _still_! Only Cariel would have known! Only Cariel could have told! Gabriel leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the warm glass. He was trapped here, caged in by walls and rules, by his brothers, by mistrust. Gabriel yearned for the days long ago when he could fly freely through the universe, going wherever he pleased, with no responsibilities to anyone, no duties to fulfill.

“Cariel was filling your role while you were away.” Barachiel crept closer to Gabriel, his fingers brushing the outermost edge of the Archangel’s wing. “He had to put the choir first, above even you. Please don’t be mad at him. He loves you more than any other angel.”

“It’s not that easy, Barachiel.” Gabriel turned, catching the younger angel in the curve of one wing and drawing him close. Barachiel came easily, tucking against Gabriel’s chest to return his choirmaster’s embrace. “But thank you. Cariel is lucky to have you as a friend.”

The air rippled as a third angel materialized in Gabriel’s office. Michael. The Archangel appeared facing Gabriel, a shadow still darkening his grace. He didn’t even spare Barachiel a glance. “Are you calm?”

Gabriel pushed Barachiel behind him, covering the Seraph with his wings just in case. “Calmer.”

Michael huffed impatiently. “Best we can hope for. Let’s try this again. We are still at war. Join us in Raphael’s tower.”

Michael vanished just as abruptly as he appeared, and Gabriel relaxed, glancing back at Barachiel. “Round two,” he muttered. “Please thank Cariel for giving me some space.”

“Try not to fireball Raphael again,” Barachiel replied with a little smile. “Or, if you do, make sure he’s started things this time.”


	58. Raphael's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael and Gabriel are so very different from each other. This cannot possibly be a good thing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the Interlude chapters, little flashbacks to when the Archangels were kids. In this chapter, Michael has just about hit 20-21 here, and Sammael is a late-mid teenager. Raphael and Gabriel are closer to 4 or 5. In chronological order, this is the fourth Interlude.

### Raphael’s Interlude

“Order is good and chaos is not. Breezes are gentle, and fire is hot. The sky goes above, and the ground goes below. These are just some of the things that I know.”

Raphael bounded across the stars in a galactic game of hopscotch, his little wings fluttering with every jump between solar systems. As he flew, he chanted a little rhyme he’d made up all on his own, the very first skipping song. 

“Planets are solid, and stars give off light. Michael is strong, and Sammael bright. God is the greatest, wherever He go. These are just some of the things that I know.”

As far as rhymes went, it wasn’t the best. Raphael frowned a little to himself, landing on one foot on a mountain peak. He’d have to work on it. Next verse.

“I like the quiet, but Gabriel’s loud. He makes big messes, and Sammael is proud. I really don’t like it when he makes my winds blow. These are just some of the things that I know.”

Raphael landed hard on both feet on a tiny ice ball of a planet, his wings splayed out for balance. Despite his best efforts to stay up, he still toppled forward and threw out his hands to catch himself, but a strong arm wrapped around his waist and saved him before he could fall. “Whoa there, Raphael! Careful!”

“Michael!” Raphael wriggled around in Michael’s hold so he could face his big brother, beaming his joy up at the older angel. Michael was _awesome_. He was so big, and nice, and smart! He always looked out for Raphael, and he was always around to catch Raphael.

“What are you doing out here?” Michael wrapped his other arm around Raphael and lifted him completely off his feet. Raphael didn’t mind, flinging his arms around Michael’s neck and snuggling in close to his brother’s core. “You’re a long way from the others. I almost didn’t find you.”

“But you did. You always do.” Raphael brought his wings in to add to his embrace. “I love you, Michael.”

“I love you too, Raphael.” Raphael could feel Michael’s happiness playing through his grace and brushing over his wings. Michael always made him feel so _adored_. “Now, let’s go find Gabriel. Why don’t you play with him, instead of coming all the way out here on your own?”

“I don’t like to play with him,” Raphael admitted as Michael spread his giant wings to fly.

“No? Why not?”

“He’s _wrong_.” Raphael whispered the last word into Michael’s grace, so no one else could overhear him. “He’s just _wrong_.”

“Wrong?” Michael stopped flying on a warmer planet, setting Raphael down on a mountain so they could look eye to eye. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“Well!” Raphael couldn’t believe Michael was actually asking him! He’d wanted to tell someone for _ages_ , but he never could think of a way to say it without sounding like a tattle-tale. “Gabriel can’t fly right!”

“Gabriel can fly,” Michael argued gently. “Now, at least.”

“He doesn’t fly _right_ ,” Raphael stressed, trying to figure out how he could explain Gabriel’s failings to Michael. Michael wasn’t Gabriel’s partner. He didn’t _understand_ the way Raphael did. “See, look over there? If you want to fly there, to that mountain, you go _voom_.” Raphael slid his hands together, pushing one forward while pulling the other back, to indicate a straight, quick line. “And then you’re there! But Gabriel, he doesn’t do that! He goes all woobly woobly woobly.” Raphael wobbled his hands, zigzagging toward the other mountain peak. “See? It’s not right!”

Michael caught Raphael’s hands in both of his big ones. His grace was all lit up, like when he laughed, but Michael wasn’t laughing now. He was taking Raphael _seriously_. “But Gabriel does get to the other mountain eventually.”

“But that’s not _right_! Yeah, he’ll get there, _eventually_ , but that’s not the right way to fly, so he doesn’t fly right. He’s _wrong_.”

“That’s not wrong, Raphael, that’s just different.”

Raphael folded his arms over his chest and let his grace tell Michael that he wasn’t convinced. “No. He’s wrong.”

Michael sat down beside Raphael, pulling him into his lap and wrapping him in his wings. “Okay, so Gabriel doesn’t fly very efficiently. How else is he wrong?”

“Every way!” Raphael flung his arms out wide. “He’s wrong in _every single way_ , Michael!”

“That’s a lot of ways to be wrong.”

“But it’s _true_! Look.” Raphael picked up Michael’s hands in his. “This one’s me, and this one’s Gabriel. We’re _opposites_ , just like hands.” Michael leaned his chin against the top of Raphael’s head and nodded. “That means if I’m right,” Raphael lifted Michael’s right hand, “then Gabriel _has_ to be wrong.” He lifted Michael’s left hand. “If I fly right,” right hand, “then Gabriel flies wrong.” Left hand. “If I love God, then Gabriel must _hate_ God. If I love you, then Gabriel must hate you! And if I love him…” Raphael frowned, looking at Michael’s left hand. “He hates me? Or he hates him? I don’t know that one.”

“You’re opposites, Raphael, but that doesn’t mean you’re _completely_ different.” Michael’s voice was gentle as he drew both hands in, pressing them together like in prayer. “Look, see? Both hands are the same size, same shape. They both have the same number of fingers. They can both move the same, grip the same, tickle the same…”

Even with the half second warning of saying it, Raphael was still caught off guard as Michael suddenly tickled him, his fingers digging into Raphael’s pudgy spirit and making the little angel squeal in undignified laughter. Raphael toppled off the mountain, kicking his feet and giggling, but Michael caught him in his longest wing and pulled him back. “See, Raphael? Even though they’re opposite, they’re also the same. You and Gabriel are opposite and the same. You’re both little angels. You both have two big brothers and a twin. You both have the same number of wings and the same number of feathers. You both love Father, and you love all your brothers. These things aren’t opposite just because you and Gabriel are.”

“I guess…” Michael still wasn’t understanding. Raphael tucked his wings in as he let Michael cuddle him against his chest again.

“What else is wrong about Gabriel?” Michael brushed his fingers over Raphael’s head, gently petting him. Raphael closed his eyes, humming contentedly at the gesture.

“He can’t heal. Remember when he was swimming in that star, and he pulled me in too, and it _hurt_?” Raphael pulled back a little to make sure Michael remembered that very serious situation. “Gabriel couldn’t make it better _at all_. He just made it hurt more.”

“Well, that _is_ a way you two are different,” Michael agreed. “But Sammael can’t heal very well either, and none of us can heal as well as you. Does that mean Sammael’s wrong, or I’m wrong?”

“No!” Raphael patted Michael’s arm, quick to reassure his brother that he wasn’t calling _Michael_ wrong. “But you didn’t make it _worse_. Gabriel hurt me. That’s wrong.”

“You’ve hurt him too, Raphael.”

“But I always fixed him after! And I didn’t _mean_ to!” Raphael drew away a little, hugging his wings around himself. He really hadn’t meant to trap Gabriel in that tornado and break his wing. Gabriel had just gotten in the way, like he always did. He never looked where he was going! He should have seen Raphael was playing with the winds!

“Raphael…”

Raphael peeked up over the edges of his wings as Michael pulled him close in another hug. “Does Gabriel hate me?”

“No! Of course he doesn’t hate you! Gabriel loves you, just like you love him!” Michael hesitated a moment. “You _do_ love him, don’t you?”

Raphael nodded against Michael’s chest. “I do, but he… I dunno. Sometimes he scares me, Michael. He’s just so _different_!”

Michael rested his cheek against Raphael’s head, rocking his little brother gently in his lap. “Sammael is so very different from me too, Raphael, but it’s _because_ he’s so different that I love him so much. Sammael _isn’t_ me. We are different, and unique, and I can’t… I can’t _not_ love that about him.”

“But Gabriel does things wrong. And he doesn’t listen when I tell him how to do things right. And even when he _does_ listen, he still doesn’t do things right. And so then he messes everything up. And sometimes he gets hurt because he won’t do things right, or he hurts someone else, and I just…” Raphael tucked himself into a little ball. “I want him to do everything right so he doesn’t ever get hurt. I don’t _like_ him getting hurt.”

“You are a good brother, then,” Michael said. “But maybe… maybe we should look at ways that Gabriel is just different and not try to change those. If he’s _wrong_ , it’s okay to correct him, nicely, but if he’s just different, like with his flying, you should let him be different, so he can still be Gabriel, and not Raphael Number Two.”

“But what if _he_ doesn’t like _me_? What if that’s a way we’re opposite?”

“What makes you think Gabriel doesn’t like you?” Michael asked, his voice gentle and soothing.

Raphael looked down at his hands. “He’s always playing with Sammael. He doesn’t ask me to play; he always asks Sammael. He always shows Sammael new things, and he always asks Sammael to tell him stories and teach him things.”

Michael was quiet for a while, just petting Raphael’s wings. “Raphael,” he finally said, “maybe that’s because Sammael doesn’t keep telling Gabriel that he’s wrong?”

“But he _is_!”

“It’s not very nice to always call someone wrong,” Michael pointed out. “Do you ever tell Gabriel when he’s _right_?”

“He’s never right,” Raphael insisted.

“What about when he’s different but not wrong?” Raphael looked away, not wanting to see Michael’s gentle rebuff. “Raphael?”

“I don’t tell him he’s not _wrong_ -wrong,” Raphael huffed. “But-”

Michael lifted a finger, giving Raphael a look. “Why don’t you try doing that first? Stop telling Gabriel that he’s wrong, and start telling him when he does things right, or different but okay. And I’ll talk to him about asking you to play more. Do you think that will work? Think you can do that?”

“I guess…” Raphael folded his arms again, his grace moping around his spirit. “Do I haveta start _now_?”

Michael chuckled, picking Raphael up and standing again. “The sooner the better, Raphael. Let’s go find our brothers.”


	59. Summary of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight between Raphael and Gabriel has been lasting for over five centuries now… and it’s contagious.

### Summary of War

In the end, it took three tries for Gabriel and Raphael to both calm down enough at the same time to come up with a feasible war plan, and another two months and six hundred dead brothers for them to kill the last of the Knights of Hell, the elite group of demons that had besieged Heaven for so long. Only the Archangels’ weapons were effective against the fallen angels. The lower ranks of angels had proven to be little better than distracting cannon fodder. Several of the Knights had fled the battle, returning to Hell, but the angels relaxed once they were gone from the Borderlands.

Even after that threat was dispatched, peace did not return to Heaven. Michael himself enforced the ban on trips between Heaven and Earth, recalling all of the Earth-bound angels and cutting off the planet entirely from direct intervention. Gabriel’s angels monitored the world from his tower, which was now buzzing with activity. The Cherubim flitted through the Borderlands, firing their arrows through the veil separating the worlds, but nothing larger was allowed to pass. Barachiel’s angels developed methods of tracking the weather and movements of the world from three entire floors of the tower, and Cariel’s angels started fine-tuning their ability to long-distance dream-walk.

Without the ability to escape to Earth, Gabriel and Raphael butted heads and locked their wings with terrifying frequency. When the Archangels clashed, the very foundations of Heaven shook. Raphael had not been seen without shiny burn scars etched into his spirit for over five hundred years, and Gabriel was equally battered, bruised by winds he couldn’t ignite and constantly disheveled.

The animosity between the Archangels had spilled out into their choirs. Raphael’s Seraphim and Gabriel’s Seraphim were frequently being dragged apart from actual fist-fights on the Axis Mundi, and their garrisons postured and snarled across heavenly fields. Their seconds were the worst of all: in the most memorable fight, still whispered about centuries later, Marmoniel had broken Cariel’s arm and Cariel had dislocated three of her wings.

Heaven was, in short, a _mess_. Michael had long ago given up trying to stop the fighting and simply ordered the healers to only tend to injuries incurred by non-angelic means. Any angel Michael’s garrisons caught fighting was dragged before him and sentenced to patrol the outer reaches of the Borderlands, near the Edges of the Universe, where the weirdest and most frightening monsters came from.

And still, Raphael and Gabriel fought.

Even in Gabriel’s tower, there was no peace. Gabriel had forgiven Cariel for obeying the orders of the other Archangels in his absence, but a crack had formed between the once-inseparable pair. Gabriel never again spoke of running away with Cariel. Cariel never again sought excuses to touch Gabriel. They worked together and watched each other across the office, but they never _talked_. Not the way they used to.

It had been well over five centuries since Gabriel had talked with anyone. He avoided even Michael these days, hating the disappointment that constantly clouded his brother’s grace. It was bad enough that Michael was still drowning in grief even centuries after Lucifer’s fall, with no relief in sight. The disappointment was at least half Gabriel’s fault, no matter how much he tried to restrain himself from attacking Raphael. It was his fault, and that made it a thousand times worse to see.

Little tongues of flame crackled along the edges of Gabriel’s wings as he stormed through the halls of his tower. His angels parted around him like the sea, nodding acknowledgements to the Archangel but otherwise staying out of his way. Only one moved to walk beside him: Cariel, still his lieutenant despite their distance.

“Barachiel has finished his annual reports, which have been compiled and filed for reference, should you ever bother to look. I’ve prepared a one-page summary for your review. Selaphiel would like to speak with you about several bloodlines which are becoming dangerously entwined, and Jegudiel has requested a review of the upper ionosphere.”

“Now?” Gabriel asked, taking a corner sharply and nearly knocking over a Cherub with one of his wings. Cariel kept up easily, throwing out his own wing to keep the smaller angel from falling but quickly moving past him.

“Selaphiel can be delayed for up to three years, on the outside, but I wouldn’t encourage waiting that long. Jegudiel insists his review is urgent, but Barachiel’s report implied that the urgency won’t actually come about for another century. However, Barachiel is not the angel of the atmosphere, and last time it burned…”

“The whole world boiled.” Gabriel sighed, giving a nod. “Tell Jegudiel I will meet with him this evening, but make sure he gets no more than two hours. If necessary, schedule Selaphiel for immediately after.” Despite being one of the younger Seraphim, Jegudiel always put Gabriel in mind of an old man who loved to hear himself lecture. If he didn’t have a time limit, Jegudiel could talk for days about ‘urgent’ matters.

“Nothing else has happened while you were out.” Cariel stopped just inside the door as they reached Gabriel’s office. The Archangel swept over to his desk and dropped heavily into his chair, glaring at the smooth surface as if it had personally offended him. “What new damage this time?”

Raphael and Gabriel had been arguing for the past thirty hours about the paths of hurricanes during the storm season on Earth. As always, Michael had stepped in to end the battle and make a decision. “Raphael has a wingful of charred feathers now,” Gabriel answered, shifting in his seat. “I’m fairly certain he bruised my hip. How is that possible, Cariel? I don’t even have a real joint there to _be_ bruised!”

“You’re asking the wrong angel.” Cariel smiled thinly and leaned against the door jamb, the most relaxed he ever was around Gabriel these days. His eyes tracked the Archangel, the longing plain for anyone to see, but Gabriel turned away. He _wanted_ to open up to Cariel again. He ached to unload his fears and concerns onto his Seraph’s capable shoulders, to feel Cariel’s fingers combing through his feathers and reassuring him that his worries weren’t nearly as big as they seemed.

But somehow, Raphael knew all he spoke of to Cariel. Somehow, Raphael always learned Gabriel’s secrets the moment they were shared with Gabriel’s second, and Raphael always found ways to attack him with them. Gabriel didn’t want to believe Cariel would sell him out to Raphael, but he had no other explanation.

_Don’t look at me like that. You make me want to look back._

“Who won?” Cariel asked. “The argument, that is?”

“I did.” Gabriel smiled as he recalled Michael’s judgment. “The hurricanes will continue to follow the traditional patterns, instead of spinning wherever Raphael feels needs more weather. Consistent weather patterns are my domain, not his, even though they involve winds.”

“Point for us, then.” Cariel gave a nod. “I’ll alert Jegudiel.”

“Thank you, Cariel. I-” Gabriel cut off abruptly, pressure building in his mind.

_Gabriel._

“Father!?”

God had been silent ever since Jesus’ death and subsequent disappearance (the Son of God hadn’t appeared in Heaven, nor was he still wandering on Earth). He visited Heaven on an erratic schedule, settling down in the Garden with only Metatron for company. The absences between His visits grew longer with each departure. It had been nearly a full century since the last time God in all His glory had shone forth from the heart of Heaven. Gabriel hadn’t seen his Father personally since the last message to carry to Jesus, and he was fairly certain Michael and Raphael hadn’t either.

Cariel stood up straight, the surprise on his face. “God is back?”

Gabriel nodded once, touching two fingers to the side of his head. “Should I come?”

_Yes. Meet Me in the Garden._

God’s presence lifted as abruptly as it had settled, leaving Gabriel feeling alone inside his own head. He looked over at Cariel, unsure of what this meant. “Perhaps you should hold off on scheduling things until after this meeting.”

Cariel nodded. “I’ll put Him in your calendar.”


	60. Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God’s return to Heaven brings a completely unexpected revelation for Gabriel.

### Go

Gabriel climbed to the top of his tower and launched himself from the highest peak, fanning out his wings as he fell through Heaven. One powerful downstroke checked his fall before he crashed, and he was soaring through the sky, pushing his wings faster and faster. Far below, his brothers looked up to see the Messenger flying as swiftly as he could toward the Garden, and Gabriel could feel the ripple of relief that passed through them. God was here. They were not alone.

Joshua was working in a patch of the Garden as Gabriel landed, looking up to offer the Archangel a tired smile. “Haven’t seen you around here in centuries, brother.”

“I haven’t had a reason to be here.” Gabriel trailed his fingers along the ridge of Joshua’s wing, making the Cherub grin and squirm slightly from the ticklish sensation. “Father has called me.”

“Then you shouldn’t keep Him waiting.” Joshua nodded inward. “He’s at the center, with Metatron.”

“When _isn’t_ He?” Gabriel grumbled, but he found one more smile for Joshua before starting down the Garden path.

“Gabriel!” Metatron bounded to Gabriel’s side as soon as he saw the Archangel, a thick book bound in green leather clutched in his hands. “This is for you! I wrote it all down, exactly as Father said!”

“Er… thank you?” Gabriel accepted the book warily from Metatron, glancing at the cover. There was nothing to give away the contents, no hint at a title.

Behind Metatron, the brilliant flame of God was seated by a small pond, His fingers skimming through the clear water. Gabriel couldn’t focus on his least-favorite brother what with God so near. He bowed low, covering his head with his wings. “Father. It has been a long time.”

_A very long time, but you still answered My call as swiftly as ever._

“I am still Your Messenger.”

God drew His hand out of the pond and patted the grass beside Him. Gabriel hurried to sit at his Father’s side, hugging the book to keep from reaching for God.

_You are injured._

God’s thumb smoothed over a healing cut across Gabriel’s shoulder, left by Raphael during a particularly violent disagreement. Gabriel closed his eyes and bowed his head, feeling familiar shame at his loss of control bubbling up within him. “Raphael and I… do not agree on many things.”

The answer wasn’t with words, but with a feeling. Sadness rolled across Gabriel’s spirit, feeding his shame. Gabriel tightened his wings and bit his lip. “Father… could I ask you a question?” _Privately?_

Gabriel didn’t need to speak the words for God to hear them. His Father’s hand slid behind him, over his wings, and then God’s attention turned to Metatron. After a brief protest—“Who will take the minutes!?”—Metatron slunk toward the Garden’s gate.

_Speak freely, Gabriel._

Gabriel’s fingers dug into the leather cover of the book, his wings drawing in tightly against his back under God’s touch. Lucifer had questioned Father all the time, when he was here, but Gabriel was not so bold as his lost brother. Very rarely had he actually questioned his Father directly about his motives, but now, he had to.

“Father… why did You make us like this? Raphael and me. You fashioned us according to Your wishes. You crafted us to be completely opposite, with no way to come together and find peace. I have tried and tried to reconcile my differences with him. I _have_ tried! And I know… I know he must have tried too. But we just… we can’t. We _can’t_ , Father. We are too different.” 

God drew Gabriel close. His grace wrapped around the Archangel, blanketing him in warmth and a solemn sort of love. While direct contact with their Father frequently injured angels, Gabriel could feel Him holding back, keeping His power from burning Gabriel’s fragile spirit. This was a hug, an embrace from the Creator to one of His creations.

_I set the pieces, Gabriel, but you moved them. You and your brother could have come together in a far greater partnership than Michael and Sammael just as easily as you grew apart._

“Not just as easily,” Gabriel mumbled.

 _Just as easily,_ God repeated. _You had the potential to go either way._ His hand smoothed along Gabriel’s wings again, setting all his feathers straight. _I set the pieces, I made the rules, and then I stepped back and let you fly. Something within you and your brother grated, and the two of you turned away from each other, but I did not **make** you._

“Free will?” Gabriel asked darkly.

_Exactly._

Gabriel turned his face against his Father, freeing one hand from the book to hesitantly touch God. His spirit did not burn; God was still allowing this contact. “I hate it. I hate being here. I hate being so cooped up, with _him_. I need to get away. I need _space_ , Father.”

_Then go._

Gabriel huffed. “Go where? The Borderlands? Even Raphael doesn’t find that empty realm restful. It’s certainly no home for me.”

_Go to Earth._

“That’s against the rules,” Gabriel reminded God. “Unauthorized trips through the veil are punishable by death.”

_That’s not My rule._

Silence fell over the Garden. Gabriel’s spirit felt electrically charged, buzzing in his throat. He stared blankly into his Father’s grace, his fingers flexing over the cover of the book he held. “…Dad?”

God hummed an acknowledgement, petting Gabriel’s wings.

“Did You… do You mean…?” Was God giving him _permission_ to run?

 _You are heart-strong and impetuous, Gabriel, exactly as I made you. I am not **ordering** you do to anything, but should you decide your heart is leading you away..._ God actually shrugged, a ripple of His grace that vibrated through Gabriel. _I would not consider you a traitor for listening to it._

It was an out. An exit. If Gabriel left, God would not turn His back on him. Raphael may never forgive him, but God would never need to. Gabriel lifted his arm, pressing it over his eyes, shivering faintly in relief. He wasn’t trapped here forever. _He wasn’t trapped_!

 _Do not be hasty,_ God advised. _Deliver My message, and consider your next move._

“Of course,” Gabriel answered, wiping his arm across his face and turning to smile up at his Father. “Of course. Your message. Whom is it for?”

_Go to Earth, with My permission, to the cave called Hira near Mecca. There you will find a man named Muhammad._


	61. Contingency Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on Earth, a very familiar young god comes to introduce himself to Gabriel.

### Contingency Plans

“If it isn’t the big shiny angel! I thought I felt your presence!” 

Gabriel looked down the mountain he was sitting on, spotting a familiar tulpa with a mischievous grin smirking up at him from beside a rock near his feet.

“Hullo, Gabriel. Long time, no see. Hanging around another holy man again?”

“Just doing my job!” Gabriel couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the tulpa. It had solidified even further in the centuries Gabriel had been away, now easily able to pass for a human. The power flowing through the supernatural creature had settled down, filling out an impressive aura. He had ascended. Tulpa was no longer a powerful enough word for him. He was a pagan god, young, but full of potential. “You look healthy. Have you acquired a name?”

“Oh yes, a good one.” The god leaned back against the rock, his honey colored eyes glittering in the autumn sun. “Part of a whole pantheon now. Got worshipers and kids and everything to keep me busy. That’s what took me so long to track you down. What about you, all tied up in this mess?” He gestured down at the city below them, Mecca. Muhammad and his followers were busy throwing down statues of the old gods around the Kaaba.

“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Gabriel said, raising a finger pointedly. “He decided to do that all on his own.”

“Uh-huh.” The god tucked his hands behind his head and grinned at Gabriel. “Is this the spiritual successor to your Jesus Christ guy?”

“Not quite,” Gabriel answered. He’d read the message God had given him in his free time, and been confused at first, but he thought he had things figured out now. “He’s sort of an alternative. God likes to give His people choices.”

“Choices? Is that what you call it?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I give the message. What humans do with it after it’s left my hands is their own business.”

“That is a very convenient excuse.”

Gabriel shrugged again, looking back down at Muhammad. He’d been on earth for nearly two decades now, the only angel on this entire planet. His brothers’ voices were quiet whispers in the back of his mind, muffled and distorted as they passed through the veil of the Borderlands. Occasionally, Gabriel could feel the influence of one of them extending to the humans around him—his Cherubim continued to pair up humans and influence their breeding—but for the most part, Gabriel was alone. He spoke with Muhammad daily and nightly, teaching and learning, just like with Jesus, but he never had visitors.

Unlike with Jesus, Gabriel was allowed to take a vessel this time. That alone had taken him the better part of a year. Until he had a vessel, he had to settle on dream-walking in Muhammad’s mind. Now, though, he reclined in a ginger-headed youth, careful to keep his white clothes pristine. Muhammad had certain expectations from the Angel Gabriel. Dirty clothes did not carry the mark of celestial authority.

Envesseled, Gabriel could distract himself by walking among the humans, speaking with them, tasting their foods, and marveling at their inventions. He had to be careful in this corner of the world, as his vessel’s looks were entirely out of place among the Arab men, but further north he could pass through a crowd undetected.

“Did you really feel my presence?” Gabriel asked, looking back at his companion.

The god nodded, turning his eyes up toward the sky. “Felt it as you fell to earth. All the lines of power bent toward you. Couldn’t _see_ you, but tracked your fall anyway.”

“I wasn’t _falling_ ,” Gabriel protested. “I was flying.”

“Flying down is as good as falling,” the god countered with a grin. “You flew up too for a bit, tooled around not too far from me. That where you picked up this face?”

Gabriel nodded, smoothing his hand down his vessel’s chest. “This man is a direct descendent of Suros.”

“The geezer you ran with the first time we met.”

“Yes. And he is a direct descendent of Vindonnus.” Gabriel named his first vessel, the one this god knew only as a fellow pagan deity.

“Vinny’s gone.”

“Gone?” Gabriel sat up a bit straighter, frowning. It had been centuries since he’d last visited, of course, but Vindonnus’ tulpa had become a _god_!

The god nodded solemnly, his gaze turning toward the north. “The Romans came in, dragging their gods with them. Apollo snapped up a lot of the smaller ones and stole their names. When he’s remembered at all, he’s Apollo Vindonnus.” The god glanced back to Gabriel. “Even deities aren’t immortal, not if they’re forgotten and consumed like that.”

“You said as much before.”

“I don’t want it to happen to me.” The god leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and looking at Gabriel. “Hypothetically, you said you could make my name remembered forever. Still true?”

“Hypothetically, you said you’d give up your life for that.” Gabriel mimicked the god’s posture, leaning in toward him. “Still true?”

The god nodded slowly. “Still hypothetical?”

God said Gabriel could leave. God must have known about that conversation Gabriel had once had with this god when he was still a tulpa. God had all but given him permission. Gabriel slowly shook his head. “Not… quite.”

A grin split across the god’s face, and he rolled forward onto his knees. “Then I say yes again. That’s what you need, isn’t it? I say yes, you get my body, and you make my name last forever. Yes.” 

The golden bridge opened up, linking Gabriel to the pagan god. Gabriel licked his lips nervously, then reached out and touched the connection. If he just… He squeezed his eyes shut and _pushed_.

When he opened his eyes again, the youth he’d been possessing, a lad named Colmán, was collapsed on the ground, slowly waking up from the sleep his soul had been in. Gabriel was looking at the white-clothed man from behind a different face.

“Gabriel?” Colmán asked, pushing himself up and looking around warily. His eyes fell on the god, and he gulped audibly.

“Be at peace,” Gabriel said, testing out this new voice. The god wasn’t quite human inside. His voice resonated through him more like an angel’s natural voice than through thin vocal cords like a human’s. It was easier to speak as the god, easier to move. This body felt expansive inside, larger than the physical dimensions would have led Gabriel to believe. He was reminded the most of Suros, with his worn, broken-in body, only without any of the sagginess that had come about with age. There was a glow deep within, the god’s own spirit, still alert and aware, but restrained in his center. He warmed Gabriel from the inside out, a furnace of heat and power the angel could tap into for even more power.

In short, the god was _comfortable_. Familiar. Almost like he had been designed for Gabriel to possess. The angel smiled a little at that thought, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. _Thanks, Dad._

“What is…?” Colmán rubbed his face and frowned, squinting over at Gabriel again. “You are there?”

“Yes, but I’d like to come back. May I?” Gabriel offered his hand to the human.

Colmán nodded, sleepily reaching out to catch Gabriel’s fingers. He closed his eyes, and Gabriel poured himself back through the link. He tightened his hold on the god’s fingers once he was back in Colmán’s body, keeping him from falling back.

“Whoa.” The god shook his head a little and grinned at Gabriel. “Trippy. You’re hot.”

“Angel of Fire,” Gabriel said with a little shrug. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the god answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m a weird god, not really pinned down to god _of_ anything, not yet. The humans haven’t fully decided what to do with me. They just know I’m awesome. It’s nice to have a definitive trait like ‘fire.’” He sat back, studying Gabriel. “So.”

“So,” Gabriel repeated, rubbing his hands over his knees. Colmán felt too tight now, too restraining, and the little soul wrapped up in his grace was just that, _little_. Gabriel had just had a taste of holding a god, and he wanted more already.

“Are we going to do this? You take me? I live forever?”

“Maybe.” Gabriel glanced at the sky, then back to the god. “You said you felt me come to Earth?” The god nodded. “I need to finish this task, but… I’m not supposed to ever return. If I _do_ …”

“Then it’s a yes?”

“Then it’s a yes.” Gabriel took a deep breath and held the god’s gaze. “You know the forest, near the mountains of the north? The one we ran through that first time?” The god nodded again. “If you feel me fall again, go there. Wait by a tree not far from the mountains. If I come, I’ll need you to say yes in a hurry.”

“I can do that.”

Gabriel reached up, hugging himself, his borrowed heart hammering wildly in his chest. He was making plans to escape Heaven. Genuine plans to run away. This wasn’t a hypothetical situation anymore. Raphael would declare him a traitor and try to have him killed. If he was found out, he’d be executed without a chance to explain. No Archangel had been killed before, not even Lucifer. He would be the first.

“Watch for me,” Gabriel whispered, closing his eyes. “If I need you…”

“I’ll be there.”

Gabriel gave a tight nod, clenching his fingers in his arms before he forced the tension out in a giant sigh. “I should… I should get back to Muhammad. Thank you for coming to visit.”

“Thanks for offering me immortality.”

The god climbed to his feet as Gabriel did, but as Gabriel spread his wings, ready to take off, he realized he had forgotten to ask one important question, one he asked all his vessels. He looked over the curve of one golden-edged wing to meet the god’s eyes. “You said you’d acquired a name. What is it?”

The god grinned, his eyes ablaze with power and joy. “My name?

“It’s Loki.”


	62. The End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Heaven, Metatron has a revelation for the Archangels, and they have a demand of him.

### The End of the Beginning

“Welcome back, Gabriel.” Cariel was waiting in Gabriel’s office as soon as the Archangel landed. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice the Seraph’s shoulders relaxing, years of tension slipping away. Had Cariel been worrying the entire time Gabriel was gone? “I’ve been-”

Cariel was interrupted by the flap of angel wings, and Michael was suddenly in the office with them, filling the space with his grace. “Gabriel. My office. _Now._ ”

Michael vanished as soon as he had appeared. Gabriel glanced to Cariel. “Did you know he’d do that?”

Cariel shook his head. “No, everything’s been running smoothly in your absence. Smoother, actually, than before, without the constant warring between you and Raphael…”

Gabriel groaned. “He’s probably trying to head off a rekindling. I’ll return shortly, and you can update me on what I missed.”

Cariel gave a sharp nod, and Gabriel opened his wings again.

Raphael was already waiting in Michael’s office, along with Metatron, who was cowering in a corner. Michael was leaning against his desk, his wings held high and sharp. They were quivering, fine little tremors rustling his feathers together in a steady chime of metal on metal. That was the first thing Gabriel realized upon arriving. Michael was _visibly moving_.

“What’s this all about?” Raphael asked as soon as Gabriel had landed. “Is it us?”

“No.” Michael clenched his hands into fists on his desk, his wings giving a larger shiver of agitation. He flicked out one arm, sealing off the room. The windows went dark. The door slammed and locked. The sound of the Host inside Gabriel’s head was muted—not removed like Lucifer had done in the Underworld, but drastically reduced. The four of them were alone, with no way in and no way out. “Metatron. Tell them what you told me.”

“It’s…” Metatron shrunk back from Raphael’s glare, now turned on him. Gabriel was watching Michael, amazed that whatever had happened was serious enough to snap Michael out of his millennia-long funk. “God,” Metatron squeaked out. “It’s God. He’s… He’s _left_!”

“He does that.” Raphael shook his head, but his eyes never left the Cherub. “What does this have to do with us?”

“No, He _left_ ,” Metatron stressed. “He’s _gone_! Forever! He said so!”

“Dad wouldn’t…” Now Metatron had Gabriel’s attention, a frown pulling at the angel’s face as he remembered his own interactions with his Father. _God made a son. He wrote down instructions. He weaned us off His presence._ “When did He say this?”

“Just today! He said our work was done, He thanked me for my service, and He said He was leaving Heaven to us. Then He said good-bye, and He was gone! He _never_ says good-bye!” Metatron wrung his hands together, glancing between the Archangels. “I came straight to Michael!”

“This happened just as you returned, Gabriel.” Michael tapped his hand against his desk. “Father returned earlier this week to the Garden, and He left just as your grace reentered Heaven.”

“Did _you_ chase Him away?” Raphael asked Gabriel, though the fold of his arms and twist of his wings did say that he didn’t genuinely believe it was Gabriel’s fault.

Gabriel pulled a face at his twin but didn’t dignify the question with a response. “I was delivering the Word of God to humanity.”

“Which they already had,” Raphael interrupted.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at his brother. “A _different form_ of the Word. Muhammad was not calling himself the Son of God the way Jesus had. _Has_ Jesus been found?”

Michael shook his head. “I questioned Azrael,” he named the Seraph who oversaw the dead in Heaven, writing their names down in his book, “just last year again. Jesus’ soul still has not come to us.”

“Are you sure he’s not in the underworld?” Raphael asked. 

“The demons would have crowed about it if he were.” Gabriel massaged his temples. “I thought… when Dad set me to watch over Jesus, I thought maybe He was planning to leave then. But He wouldn’t have left without leaving Jesus in charge.”

“He left it to _us_ ,” Metatron reminded them. “The angels.”

“And that was a damn stupid thing to do,” Gabriel said. “ _Look_ at us. We’re useless.”

“ _You’re_ useless,” Raphael snapped back. “We should find Him.”

“Find Him?” Michael asked.

Raphael nodded. “He didn’t _die_. We would have felt that.”

“True…” Michael watched Raphael, encouraging him to continue.

“If Father isn’t dead, then He must exist somewhere.” The Archangel shrugged. “We find Him.”

“And ask Him to come home?” Gabriel shook his head again. “Dad’s not going to come if we call.”

“Maybe He wants us to show some initiative for once,” Raphael answered. “We find Him.”

“He’s not in the universe.” Michael looked away from his brothers. “I already checked. When Metatron first told me, I doubted, so I cast out my grace.”

Michael had the largest grace of any angel. Gabriel knew he could stretch it to the farthest reaches of the universe if he really tried. Lucifer had been able to do that as well. Neither Gabriel nor Raphael could quite reach from end to end at once, but they could cover most of the universe without moving. If Michael couldn’t feel God, then there was nowhere in the universe for God to be hiding.

“What does that mean?” Gabriel asked quietly. “If He’s not dead, and He’s not here…?”

“Then He’s Outside.” Raphael closed his eyes. “He left.”

“We can’t just follow Him out.”

“No,” Raphael agreed. “We can’t. We would need to secure this universe first, to ensure it won’t fall apart while we are gone.”

“You’re going to take over the universe?” Metatron squeaked.

“It’s already ours,” Raphael answered, turning his dark eyes toward the Cherub. “We just need control.”

“Do you know how to control the universe?” Michael asked. “Because Father never told me.”

“Nor me,” Raphael admitted. “But I wasn’t the one writing the universe’s instruction manual for Him.”

Three Archangel turned in unison toward the Cherub in the corner. Metatron backed up as far as he could go, wrapping his wings around him. “I… guys, I just…”

“Tell us?” Michael pushed away from his desk, taking a step toward Metatron. “Tell us how to do this, Metatron.”

“I don’t think I should…” Metatron cowered away from the Archangel.

“That wasn’t a request.” Raphael joined Michael, stalking toward the younger angel. “Tell us, Cherub, or we’ll have Naomi figure it out for us.”

“I just…”

“This is _ridiculous_!” Gabriel snapped, refusing to advance on Metatron. “Honestly, _this_ is our plan? Seize complete control of the universe so we can go Outside to find God?”

“Do you have a better one?” Raphael demanded, looking back at his twin. “You said yourself that it was stupid for us to be in charge.”

“And it’s even stupider to put it on lockdown!” Gabriel threw up his hands. “So God’s gone. He hasn’t truly been ruling anything here anyway! We’ve been in charge all along! We’ve done a piss poor job of it, but we’ve still been doing it.”

“How is not finding Him a better plan?” Michael asked, cocking his head to the side.

“If we grow up,” Gabriel said. He pointed at Raphael. “ _We_ stop fighting.” He pointed at Michael. “You get over yourself. Sammael’s gone, and that’s horrible, but our brothers aren’t. They need us to be strong for them, not falling to pieces. We need to-”

There was a crack of thunder and a flash of light from the corner Metatron had been huddling in. A shockwave threw the three Archangels back, and the defenses on the corner of the office hung limply, shredded apart where key sigils had been erased. Awareness of the Host came flooding back in, and Metatron was gone.

“That little-!” Raphael ran to the hole, swearing at the Cherub who had escaped. 

Michael clenched his hands back into fists, his knife-sharp wings slicing the air. “Find him,” he growled. “Do not let him escape!”


	63. Goodbye, Cariel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel says goodbye to Cariel and gives back something stolen from him.

### Goodbye Cariel

Metatron had escaped Michael’s tower, folding himself through the universe too quickly to be caught. His grace was so small and weak that he could veil himself completely, hide entirely from even an Archangel’s intense scrutiny. Michael put the entire Host on alert, keeping their eyes open for any sign of the Cherub, but the fact remained that the Archangels had been too slow.

Metatron was gone.

Gabriel retreated to his tower after the Cherub’s departure, his grace singing tinnily in his own ears. Metatron had done what Gabriel had always wanted to. God was gone. Michael was moving, but Raphael and Gabriel had fought again, fought even as Gabriel admitted they needed to stop fighting.

“Gabriel?”

What more could Gabriel possibly do?

“What did Michael want?”

They needed to stop fighting.

Gabriel turned slowly, meeting Cariel’s concerned gaze. The Seraph stepped forward, lifting one hand, but he stopped and forced himself to drop it. “Gabriel, I…”

“You are a good second, Cariel.” Gabriel felt like his voice was coming from far away, echoing down a tunnel. His core felt twisted into knots, and his hands were shaking.

His hands were _shaking_. Gabriel clenched them into fists and took a moment to center himself. _Focus. If I’m actually going to do this…_

_No. Not if. I **am** actually going to do this._

_I’m going to leave._

Sudden calm filled Gabriel’s spirit, a curious numbness that filled his core and diffused through his grace. God had granted him permission and shown the way by leaving himself. Now Gabriel was going to go. He _had_ to go. If he stayed, he and Raphael would never end their feud. All of Heaven would suffer. All of Heaven _had_ suffered. When Gabriel was gone, Heaven smoothed out. Michael was moving again. With a calm Raphael to support him, maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. In the absence of God, with a rational Michael, with a Raphael not twisted and bitter from Gabriel’s constant presence…

Heaven had a chance, but only if Gabriel left.

“I’ve been reassigned again.” The lie spilled easily from Gabriel’s lips, and he smiled sadly at Cariel. _I’m never going to see you again._ “I’m leaving. Again. It’ll be a while.”

“Again.” Cariel looked away. “When is it not?”

“I’m sorry.” _I’m sorry for not trusting you, Cariel. I’m sorry for not loving you when I had the chance. I’m sorry I’m lying to you now. I’m sorry I’m leaving you behind._

“It’s not your fault.” Cariel smiled tightly. “I’ll run the ship while you’re away, then? Business as usual?”

“Of course.”

Gabriel hesitated, then stepped forward to rest his hand on Cariel’s shoulder. “Cariel… I need you to promise you won’t try to follow.”

“What?” Cariel frowned, looking at Gabriel’s hand, the first real contact between them in six hundred years, then up at the Archangel. “What do you mean? Follow you to Earth?”

“I’ll be gone for a _long_ time,” Gabriel stressed. “Please. Stay here. Watch over my choir. Don’t… don’t upset Raphael in my absence.”

“Just come back.” Cariel reached up, covering Gabriel’s hand with one of his own, then with both, clutching at the Archangel. “Just tell me you’ll come back.”

Gabriel squeezed Cariel’s fingers, then leaned in to kiss a blessing against the Seraph’s forehead. He closed his eyes and summoned forth a memory from long ago, a real kiss, stolen beneath the ocean’s surface. Touching two fingers to Cariel’s temple, Gabriel shared the memory with his Seraph, restoring what had been taken from him.

Cariel stepped back, his eyes wide, his fingers going slack. Gabriel slipped his hand out of Cariel’s grip and spread his grace, folding himself away before Cariel could recover.

_I’m sorry._


	64. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When fleeing Heaven, Gabriel must evade his twin brother, who wants to keep all angels in line no matter how high the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the end of _A History of Heaven_! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, everyone who has reviewed it, and everyone who has left kudos on it. I really appreciate all of the feedback, and I'm very happy with my first foray into Ao3!

### Farewell

Raphael was in his war room, alone, when Gabriel arrived. He glanced up at the other Archangel, scowling at his brother.

“Here to dissuade me?” Raphael asked, unrolling a map of one of the farthest corners of the universe.

“No,” Gabriel answered, tucking his hands behind his back. “Not here to talk about controlling the universe at all.”

“Then you can wait.” Raphael turned his back to Gabriel. “I’m in no mood for a fight with you.”

“Five minutes, Raphael.” The numbness that had pervaded Gabriel’s spirit still filled him, a blank calm leaving him uncharacteristically serene. There was one more thing that needed to be done before he could leave, one last loose end to tie up. “I’m asking as your twin. Please.”

The normal swirl of Raphael’s grace stuttered at the dual blow of ‘twin’ and ‘please,’ two words the younger Archangels did everything they could to avoid with each other. Slowly, the Archangel of the Air turned his head toward Gabriel, studying him for any sort of trickery. Gabriel offered him nothing more than calm, core-deep and complete.

“Very well.” Raphael walked around his table to a nearby chair, clearly using this time to recompose himself. His grace tightened around him, controlled and contained. Raphael folded his wings behind his back and looked up at Gabriel expectantly.

Ordinarily, Raphael’s haughty appraisal would have made Gabriel fidget, but not today. This was for the good of Heaven. For once, Gabriel could feel utter certainty filling him. This _was_ the right decision. He had no room for doubt.

“What is it?”

“I’m leaving.” Still no fear. Gabriel radiated peace at his brother. “I came to say goodbye.”

“Leaving?”

“The Host. Heaven. I am renouncing my position and leaving.”

The words were spoken. Gabriel couldn’t take them back now. The words were spoken, and Raphael had heard them. Gabriel felt giddy laughter bubbling up within him. He was _leaving_! A smile threatened to tug at his mouth, but he bit it back. Raphael would not understand if Gabriel found this amusing.

“Leaving.” Raphael slowly pushed himself to his feet, his eyes narrowed, a dark anger growing in his grace. “When we need the power of the Archangels the _most_ is when you turn your back on us? You _dare_ , you have the _audacity_ -”

Gabriel held up a hand, cutting Raphael off. “It has to be done. You know it does. One of us has to leave, Raphael. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stay locked up in Heaven and _fight_ for the rest of eternity. I can’t. _You_ can’t. Heaven would not survive both of us here together. Not without Father. I can’t do that to my choir, my brothers… to _you_. I can’t do it anymore. I quit.”

Raphael sank back into his chair, his grace a cloud of disbelief around him. “Then why are you even here? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’ve seen what happens to an Archangel who loses his partner,” Gabriel answered. “I’ve seen Michael fall. Angels aren’t meant to be alone. You and I have never been close, Raphael, but we’ve also never been _apart_. Not like this. You’ll be on your own here. I won’t be your scapegoat anymore. I hope… I hope you and Michael can turn to each other. You’ll both be without your partner, and let’s face it; you’ve always preferred him over me. Maybe you two can support each other. He’s moving again. You can help him recover.”

“ _You_ will be alone,” Raphael pointed out, “unless you free Lucifer and join with him.”

“I’ve had practice being alone, in my years on Earth,” Gabriel answered. “I’ll endure. After these last few centuries shared with you, I think I may even _enjoy_ my solitude.”

Raphael pressed his hands against the map table before standing again. “You always do everything _wrong_ , Gabriel, and now you have made a grave mistake.”

“I’ve thought this through. For centuries, even.”

“No.” Raphael’s sword hummed like a cloud pregnant with lightning as he unsheathed it. “You should not have told me first. The penalty for leaving Heaven,” he launched himself across the table, silver blade swinging down, “is _death_.”

Gabriel had been expecting Raphael’s attack since he first stepped into this room. He blocked Raphael’s lightning strike with his own blade, the crash of Archangel sword against Archangel sword rattling through the Heavens. Outside Raphael’s war room, Gabriel could hear Seraphim shouting, calling their garrisons to them for battle. Gabriel slammed his fiery wings against his brother, throwing him back, before he launched himself out of the room.

The Archangel took advantage of the Seraphim’s confusion, rocketing toward Earth, pushing his wings as if God Himself was calling one last time. He didn’t dare fold with so many angels around him—if one got caught up in his grace, he could drag them along and be easily found again. Instead, he flew, his eyes on the eastern gate. Angels all around him shouted, but he didn’t turn back. Raphael was always faster in the open air. Gabriel had only bought himself a few seconds’ head start.

A few seconds was all it took to plunge through the Borderlands and into Earth’s atmosphere. He plummeted through the clouds and into a thick forest. Raphael was right behind him, a wordless scream in the air.

Raphael was _never_ faster around obstacles.

Gabriel trimmed his wings, weaving through the heavy trees with an ease born of long practice in his decades alone on Earth. He yanked his grace in as he flew, incrementally dimming his presence. _Loki, you better have felt me!_ He cast what remained of his grace ahead of him, seeking out the young god.

Each wingbeat increased the distance between the two Archangels. Raphael hadn’t been to Earth in centuries. He was unaccustomed to real wind (wind that pushed Gabriel forward and pulled Raphael back? _Barachiel!_ ), to the solidness of trees, the way their branches twined together. Gabriel listened to the curses Raphael hurled after him, tracking how much time he had before his brother could catch him.

Almost, almost…

Gabriel felt a tingle off to the south. He banked right and shot toward the closest mountain, praying the flare of power was who he thought it was. _There_! A figure lounged against a birch tree, apparently asleep.

“Loki!” Gabriel came to an abrupt stop over the god, flapping his wings awkwardly to keep his momentum from toppling him forward. “Last chance! Any second thoughts?”

Loki cracked open one honey-colored eye to grin at the angel. “Still promising my name will never be forgotten?”

Gabriel nodded. “I promise. I’ll make sure the whole world knows your name Loki. You’ll still be worshipped a thousand years from now. Just say yes.”

The god grinned and spread his arms. “Then what are you waiting for, o shiny one? Hop in. Yes. I’m yours.”

Gabriel reached for Loki, pouring himself through the golden bridge and into the god’s body. Raphael was bearing down on him. He didn’t have time to waste.

Gabriel ripped the excess grace from his wings, pulling it free as Lucifer must have once, centuries ago. He balled the grace up and flung it toward the nearest mountain, willing it to create a trail for Raphael to track. By the time his brother burst into view, Gabriel was once against reclining against the tree, his eyes closed, apparently asleep.

Raphael snatched Gabriel up, his unfiltered hand searing against Loki’s throat, and slammed him against the tree. “Angel!” he snarled.

Gabriel choked, clawing at Raphael’s hand as the Archangel broke the god’s neck. It was not a fatal injury, but it still _hurt_.

This was the one untested part of Gabriel’s plan: how much of himself could he hide behind Loki’s own power? A Cherub like Metatron could hide completely behind a human soul, but an Archangel was a different story. Just as he would never be able to veil his immense grace completely from an angel’s eyes, he would also never pass as fully human. If he had taken a vessel in his bloodline, Raphael would have found him out immediately just by glancing at him. Loki, though, Loki already glittered with his own form of power. Gabriel couldn’t _hide_ his grace, but could he disguise it as nothing more than a pagan god’s own abilities?

“I am looking for an angel.” Raphael seemed to remember creatures of Earth needed their throats to speak and flung Gabriel to the ground. He pressed the tip of his silver sword against Loki’s burnt skin, drawing a bead of blood. If he shoved now, Gabriel would die.

“Angel?” Gabriel rasped through Loki’s crushed throat. “Big glowy streak of light, like you?”

“Yes. Gabriel, my brother.”

Gabriel stamped down the rising giddiness within him and lifted a hand to point toward the mountains. “Just missed him, sunshine.”

Just like that, Raphael was gone, streaking toward the mountain. Gabriel let out a deep breath, pressing the heels of his borrowed hands against his eyes. His grace surged forward, already repairing the damage to Loki’s throat. It worked. It _worked_! Raphael, his partner, his _twin_ , had looked right at him and did not see! He would follow Gabriel’s false trail to the end and find no angel. Heaven would look fruitlessly after Gabriel’s vessels. None of them would think to double-check with the god who had witnessed the angel’s escape. By the time they realized something was wrong, Gabriel would be long gone.

Gabriel lifted one hand, pressing his thumb to his finger. This was it. He had left. He was _free_.

_Snap!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in _The Left Behind_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Coldest Star, Oldest Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501504) by [Rasalahuge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasalahuge/pseuds/Rasalahuge)




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